Little Boy Lost
by Ayanhart
Summary: When he found the boy in an alley, he thought that it would be simple - he'd jut offload him to the authorities the following morning. Suspicions run riot and he realises the child is in danger even with the police, as this one lost boy brings more trouble than Gilbert had ever bargained for. Still, he'll fight tooth and nail to keep the boy safe. WARNINGS INSIDE.
1. Prologue

**Well, here's something I did for Nanowrimo last year. It's not complete (I didn't realise it'd go on for quite as long as it did, oops) it's already on 13 chapters and still going, though they all still need pretty heavy editing. I think I'm up near 60,000 words on this? It has to be the longest thing I've ever wrote! Camp Nano starts next month, so I'm hoping that I'll get it finished then - or, at least, near finished. I still have no idea how I'm going to end this, haha! Normal chapters will be a lot longer than this, my average is around 4,000 words, but this is only the prologue so it's really very short.**

**I doubt that I'll have any activity on here in April because of Camp Nano. Just a quick warning there. ****I'll try to squeeze as many characters as possible in this - even if it is only cameos - so if you wanna see your favourite guy/gal in here, then just let me know and I'll try and fit them in somewhere and****, within reason, if you want a pairing in here, then I'll try to put a hint in for you at some point, even if it . I like to keep my readers happy!**

******And it looks like you can add more than two characters as the main ones now! That's so helpful for something else I'm writing! XD I'm not sure what genres to put this under, so it's under those (I suck at picking genres!). It's not really that horror-y, but there is some torture-y type scenes in some chapters, so I'm putting it under it, just to be safe.**

**Okay, here's where the rambling ends and we get onto the stuff you want to know...**

**This is split into two parts: The first part has the main character as a young kid (a month shy of 4) and the second part is twelve years later when they're a teenager. Almost all the laws are made up, I know next to nothing and **

**This story's pretty much free of shipping - especially considering half the cast are under 5 for the first part - but there are a few pairings here and there. I won't mention any here, because of spoilers, but the only ones that have any on screen action are hetero and, even if there is hints of something shōnen-ai-ish between two male characters, it can be easily overlooked or it's just mentioned in passing. So even if you're not a Yaoi fan, you can enjoy this (I hope).**

**WARNINGS: It's rated T for the moment, but it _will_ go up. It has no sex in it - at least, none I've got planned - but there is ****some references to it. There violence, blood and kinda torture-y type stuff later. There's also hints at mental disorders, character death, child abuse and rape, but I don't think there will be anything explicit. Bear in mind, I haven't wrote the bit with the last few in yet, so it may change.**

******There'll be the main plot with the main characters (obviously...) but there will be smaller sub-plots interwoven too: Like a certain character's declining mental health and a relationship changing for two others.**

******Okay, I think that's it. Hope you like the prologue!**

******Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to all respective parties of ownership.**

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_Well done, Feliciano! You're doing so well!_

He was developing so well. He had been far ahead in his development as an infant and, while he'd slowed slightly when he reached the toddler years, grew well throughout the first few years of his life.

_He's coming along nicely. Do you think this one will be a success?_

But he could only go so far confined to the room. It had been designed so that the young boy could be seen without him seeing them. The observers. The only person he ever met was his 'Nonno', Romulus. He was taught many of the basic subjects by the man and picked them up with ease.

_He's just as good as the original, but let's hope he doesn't have the same flaws. We'll need to do some more tests soon to be sure._

The boy was content. He didn't know any better, after all. This was all he had ever known and was all he was ever likely to know. There were some bits that scared him though, the only other times he saw anyone but his Nonno. The stark white masks and rough, grabby hands. The painful injections and blood samples. The humiliating way they forced him to soil himself, just so they could take that too.

_The results show he's perfectly fine – no abnormalities whatsoever! We...We have to share this. It's a scientific breakthrough!_

But Nonno made it alright again. Nonno with his kind smile and gentle hands that always soothed away the pain. He made him feel loved, wanted, needed. Made him want to stay by the aging man's side forever and ever and to never let go. Little did he know, that his Nonno relied on him just as much. Depended on him. Used him as his lifeline. His reason to stay alive.

_What are you thinking! What we did was illegal. If the police found out we'd all go to jail, then who would look after the boys!_

Then something went wrong. Feliciano could tell something was wrong. He could hear noises, high pitched screeches. Noises that he'd never heard before. And shouting – lots and lots of shouting. Suddenly everything went red. It flashed: red, white, red, white...

_How...How did they find out? This is terrible. Oh, Lovino, I'm so sorry. I couldn't save you..._

Then Nonno was there, scooping him up in his arms, and was running. Running through the building. He barely had time to register the strange people. The strange noises. Strange surroundings. He buried his head in his Nonno's shirt as there was a bang and a bright light assaulted his senses. The noises got louder and he was sacred, oh so scared.

He'd been removed from his comfortable little bubble and thrown head-first into the real world.

"Feli?" Nonno's voice. He looked up at the man who had slowed his pace to a fast walk. He was placed on the ground, but clung again to his Nonno as a big, scary box-thing made a loud noise as it went past. Other people stared at him as they walked. He didn't like people.

"Feli, it's okay. Don't be scared." He was picked up again and carried until it all became darker and the noises became quieter. He was placed back on the floor and he looked around. Hard and cold things, far taller than either he or his Nonno, were on either side and they were surrounded by black bags that smelt horrible. If he looked past Nonno he could see people walking past, back in the light. The noisy place.

It may smell weird, but he liked it better here.

"Feli, I'm going to have to leave you, okay?" Nonno said, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"N-no!" He cried, clinging tightly to the man's clothes as his Nonno tried to stand. "No!"

"Feliciano..." The man prised the small hands from the fabric and pulled the boy into a tight embrace. "Feli, I'm so sorry, but I have to do this. It's not safe for you to be with me." He placed another tender kiss on the boy's forehead. "When I can, I promise I'll come back for you, okay?" The man stood and went away, back into the bright place and out of sight.

Feliciano sat down and waited. Nonno said he'd come back, so he would. Nonno never broke his promises. Nonno never hurt him. So he sat, waiting.

Nonno would come back. He knew he would. He would.

It got dark and he was hungry and Nonno hadn't come back. But his Nonno said he'd come back. Nonno never broke his promises. Nonno never hurt him.

Nonno would come back. He would. He would.

Nonno never hurt him... Nonno never broke his promises... Nonno would come back...

Nonno _will_ come back!

He will!

He will...

...

Will he?

* * *

**And there's the prologue. ****Chapter 1 picks up about a day or two after this. Then there's ten chapters (I think), an Intermediary chapter and we move onto part 2.**

**Btw, for those who don't know:**

**'Nonno' I believe means Grandfather in Italian.**

**Romulus is Ancient Rome/Grandpa Rome/Roma Antiqua. It's not my idea, but I've seen it in several other places and I think it's a great name. It's taken from Romulus and Remus - the legendary founders of Ancient Rome.**

**Any chance I'll get any reviews? I always try to respond to them all. They'll make me want to update sooner!**


	2. Chapter 01

**Hello again!**

**You know how I said I wouldn't be on here in April? Well... I guess that wasn't entirely true. I've taken a break from Camp NaNo and decided to spend it editing Chapter 1, so you get this a couple of weeks earlier than planned. See how nice I am? **

**Okay, I've changed the A/N in the first chapter a bit – basically, I just changed the genres slightly and added character death to the warnings, if you really can't be bothered to look back to go and find it. It won't happen for a long time yet (I haven't even wrote that bit yet!) but I know it's gonna happen. It's all planned...  
**

**This has already got five followers even after just the one chapter, so thank you all. It really makes my day when I get an E-mail come through with an alert. My friends thought I was mad when I got really excited as I checked my E-mails in school and found I had a favouriter. XD**

**Okay... Much shorter A/N this time, 'cause I can't think of anything else to say, so here's the disclaimer:**

**I DO NOT own Hetalia or it's characters.**

**Is that clear enough for you?**

**Enjoy~!**

* * *

Gilbert Beilschmidt whistled a tune as he walked through the busy city, the harsh wind blowing his pale hair in his eyes and his breath fogging in the cold air. He was headed home from his job at the garage and was looking forward to seeing his little brother again. He couldn't wait to see those blue eyes light up at the sight of a steaming plate of Wurst and found himself chuckling at the thought. The little boy could be a real character at times.

He glared at a woman who started to stare, causing her to blush and turn her gaze away. He felt his smile grow – damn, he was in a good mood today! His albinism was often a cause of unwanted attention, earning him odd looks or, even a few times, people stopping him for photos. He remembered one time when these two cute Chinese girls had stopped him and... Well, it would have been rude to say 'No', wouldn't it?

His mother had had the condition too and they were worried his youngest brother would have it when he was born – he didn't like to think about the boy who would have been the middle child. Fortunately, the younger sibling didn't and – even more fortunately, he supposed – he himself didn't have the eye problems associated with albinism. Okay, so he was sensitive to bright lights and he couldn't go out in hot weather without something like factor-fifty sun-block on, but that was something he could put up with.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. He'd just got a message from Francis. 'Free tonight x.' It said. What was with the kiss...? No, never mind. That was the Frenchman all over. He texted back saying he'd be there. He knew he wouldn't be able to get a babysitter at such short notice, but he trusted Ludwig. The boy was very mature for his age and Gilbert knew that once he settled down to sleep he'd be dead to the world for the entire night.

As he put his phone away he heard a quiet sobbing. He paused and looked around – no one else seemed to have noticed and he couldn't see any kids. He must have imagined it...

...Wait, there it was again.

There was an alley off to the side so he stepped into the passage. The noise got clearer. There definitely was a kid crying somewhere.

"Hey," He called and the noise stopped. It continued a moment later, but it was much more muffled, like the child was trying to stifle their voice. "Are you okay?" No response. "Kid?" He walked down the passage, wrinkling his nose at the horrible stench. Then he saw him, curled up against the wall.

A little, brown-haired boy.

He couldn't have been more than three or four years old and was wearing nothing other than a thin T-shirt and shorts – not even any shoes! – they were definitely not suited to the chilly February weather. The light clothes were dirty and his dark hair was matted, sticking to his grime covered face, apart from one odd curl which determinedly stuck out to the side. There were clean streaks down his face where tears had been falling, but every other piece of skin was covered in dirt. Gilbert crouched in front of the small brunette, looking into the large, watery eyes.

"What's your name?" He asked, attempting to keep his voice soft and soothing. The boy shook his head and pressed back into the wall, shivering – though whether it was from fear or the cold air, he couldn't tell. "It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you. There's no need to be scared." The boy just stared at him, his caramel-coloured eyes wide and fearful. "Where are your parents?" What a stupid question! If the kid had parents who knew where he was, he obviously wouldn't be in this state... At least, that was what he hoped.

"N-Nonno..." The boy muttered, voice shaking badly. "Nonno promised he'd... That he'd come back." Shit... Had the kid been abandoned? Who was heartless enough to do that?

"I'm Gilbert," He said, holding a hand out to the boy who just stared at the limb. "Would you like to come home with me?" The boy shook his head and Gilbert sighed, he should have known it wouldn't be that easy. "How long have you been here?" He asked instead. The boy's eyes drifted to the opposite wall and he appeared to be thinking, but in the end he just shrugged. "You must be hungry..." The boy hesitated, before nodding. Gilbert fished through his bag, pulling out a bar of chocolate. Not the most nutritious food, but it'd do. He held it out to the boy who looked at it like he'd never seen the stuff before, so he tore open the wrapper and placed the bar in the boy's hand. Slowly, the brunette moved the bar into his mouth and took a small bite.

He seemed to almost melt. His eyes flickered closed and he let out a small moan. He took another, bigger bite and then another. He devoured the rest of the bar quickly and continued to lick the remains off his fingers afterwards. When he couldn't find any more of the sticky substance he looked back to Gilbert.

"You like it?" The boy nodded excitedly. "Want some more?" He nodded again, an eager look in his eyes. "Then come with me." He held his hand out to the boy again, but the excitement seemed to fade slightly. "Come on, you want chocolate, don't you?"

"Cho...Ko...Let?" The boy's voice was barely audible.

"Yeah, Chocolate. What you just had." Had he never had chocolate before? Seriously? "You can have some more if you come home with me." The boy nodded and slowly reached out, taking Gilbert's hand. He stood and pulled the boy to his feet and, after realising that the kid didn't have any shoes, picked him up. The boy let out a squeak of surprise and clung tightly to his shirt, hiding his face in the fabric.

He noticed the way the boy stiffened as he stepped back out onto the street and he gently rubbed his back, drawing soothing circles that he'd found worked on his brother when he was upset. He felt the boy relax slightly, only to become tense again as a particularly loud vehicle passed. He walked quickly, reaching his house far quicker than he normally would. The boy lifted his head and looked around, eyes wide as he took in the much quieter side-street that Gilbert lived on.

He opened the door to the small town-house and stepped inside, placing the stunned looking child on the floor before darting further into the house. First thing to do was to check on Ludwig, then he'd give the other little boy a bath and cook them dinner. Hopefully, by then it should be bed time and he could settle them down.

Suddenly, what he was supposed to be doing tonight slipped into his head. Cursing quietly and pulling out his phone, he brought up his friend's number and pressed 'dial'.

"_Salut, mon ami al__lemand_," The voice greeted.

"Hey." There was no need to beat about the bush. "Uh, Francis, I've got bad news." The pause on the other end and the sigh down the line told him the Frenchman had guessed what he was going to say next.

"_You can't make it, can you?_" Gilbert found himself wincing at the disappointed tone in the other man's voice.

"Something came up and I can't leave."

"_No, I completely understand_." And he knew Francis did... mostly. "_Don't worry about it, we can meet up some other time. Besides, I have Chelle to look after and you have Ludwig, oui?_" Soon after, he hung up, not wanting to waste too much time chatting to his friend.

He and Francis had been friends since school, along with another mutual friend of theirs, Antonio. They only originally got to know each other because someone realised that they were all from Europe and decided that it meant either a) they'd be best friends or b) each other's worst enemies. Fortunately, it had been the former and not the latter. Francis and Toni could be quite cunning when they wanted to be.

When he and Francis had both lost their parents within a few weeks of one another, they'd leant heavily on each other. He couldn't say he hadn't been aware of Toni's feelings of being put out, but the Spaniard had calmly, and with understanding, spent time with some other friends while they'd both sorted their complex personal lives.

It wasn't until after all the custody agreements had been sorted – his with more problems than Francis' due to his bad grades, undesirable school attendance and criminal record – that they'd realised their friend's natural affinity to dealing with children. It was often him they went to if they needed babysitting or ideas and assistance, even more so now that he had started working in the local pre-school, which both Ludwig and Michelle attended. If Antonio had a free night, he would often offer to babysit while he and Francis let off some steam. They were both very grateful towards him and knew they would not have the same lifestyle if he had not been so generous.

Gilbert plugged his mobile phone into its charger and walked back to the hall, deciding to check on the still nameless little boy before finding his brother. As it turned out, he didn't need to go look for him as he found the younger sibling standing on the stairs, staring at the trembling brunette.

"Who's that?" The young blonde asked in a blank voice, not taking his eyes off the other child. The boy stood on the lowest step, his bright blue eyes practically staring holes into the other child and making the boy nervous.

"That is someone you don't need to worry about." He walked up to the blonde and, bending down, placed his hands on the child's shoulders, giving him a gentle push towards the other child. He saw the misplaced fear in the brunette's teary eyes as he clung to the side of a cabinet like a lifeline. On the level floor, he crouched behind the blonde and whispered to him so the other child couldn't hear. "Be nice, Ludwig. Go and say hello." The blond turned and looked at him, eyebrows raised in such a condescending way that a four year-old should not be able to manage. Smiling, Gilbert gave him another gentle push. "Go on. I'm gonna go run him a bath. Get him cleaned up."

He turned and walked up the stairs, heading for the bathroom. On the landing, he paused, looking back down the stairs at the two boys. Ludwig had indeed walked over to the brunette and was talking to him. He strained his ears to hear what they were saying.

"...My big bruder. Where are your family?"

There was a short pause before the other answered. "I... don't know. Nonno told me that he'd come back... but he didn't..." Gilbert was torn between finding the sentence utterly heartbreaking or incredibly adorable.

"Who's Nonno?"

The brunette shrugged. "That's what he said for me to call him. He's my Nonno."

There was a short silence. He hoped it wasn't as tense for them as it was for him.

"I'm Ludwig," the blonde said, holding out his hand. The brunette stared at it for a moment before taking it in his own.

"Feliciano." So that was the boy's name: Feliciano. He'd probably have to guess how to spell it, as it was doubtful the child knew. It sounded Italian or Spanish. If the accent lingering on his words was anything to go by, it was more likely the former. He never could tell the Italian and Spanish languages apart, despite Antonio trying to describe the differences many times before. At the very least, the child seemed to come from a Mediterranean family – that should narrow the search for down somewhat. He made a mental note to ask Toni about it tomorrow.

With that in mind, he moved off to the bathroom, he had what he wanted – namely, Feliciano's name – and he'd leave the boys to it while he prepared the bath. A few minutes later, he called Feliciano up and, to his amusement, found him being led up by Ludwig. He resisted the urge to smile as the two of them walked in, Ludwig slightly in front and leading the shyer boy in after him.

"Thank you, Ludwig." He ruffled his brother's hair before the blonde left and he turned his attention to Feliciano, kneeling in front of him. "Let's get you out of those dirty clothes, shall we?" He grabbed the hem of the Italian's shirt, only to have his fingers pried away by the boy and for him to shake his head. "Why not?" The boy just shook his head. "You need to have a wash." The head shaking became more vicious and the boy pulled back, pressing himself against the wall.

"No wash!" Feliciano shouted. "I don't like it! Please don't make me wash!" It was the first time the boy's voice had raised much beyond a whisper since he'd first found him and, to be honest, it had shocked Gilbert.

"Feliciano... Feliciano, calm down." He tried to calm the now frantic boy as he slid down to a sitting position, starting to cry again. "Feliciano, please."

"No! No, no, no, no, no!"

He reached back and grabbed a sponge off the edge of the bath, dipping it in the soapy, lukewarm water before turning back to the boy.

"Here." He took the boy's arm and gently ran the sponge over the skin. He looked up into teary eyes and continued washing the boy's arm. He couldn't work out why, but this didn't seem to be what the boy had expected. "See, there's no problem, right?" Dropping his arm, he flipped the already grubby sponge over and leant forwards, tilting the boy's chin up slightly and wiping the sponge across his cheek. He pulled back and held his hand out to the boy. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

"Th-that... That's not..." Feliciano stammered, frowning slightly.

"That's not what?" Gilbert urged.

"Not what a wash is..." The boy finished, his voice dropping back down as he stared at the sponge. "Cold..."

"How about we call it a bath then?" Feliciano looked up at him and nodded slightly. "Let's give you a bath, then."

Now with much less resistance, he helped Feliciano to undress and climb into the water. He gently ran the sponge over his naturally tanned skin, pleased to find there was much less dirt where his clothes had been covering. That would save some awkwardness. He poured a jug of water over the boy's head and squeezed a generous amount of shampoo into his palm. As he began to lather it in his hair he heard a small sigh from the boy and felt a small smile creep onto his face. He noticed the way, as he washed the suds away, the boy's hair lightened from what had appeared to be a dark brown to a colour much closer to auburn and how his skin was a good shade or two lighter than it had first appeared.

After he was dried and wrapped snugly in a fluffy towel, Gilbert pulled the plug and let the now dirty-brown water drain away. He lead the boy into the room which he'd have to share with Ludwig. Luckily, the room had a full-sized bed and, as such, there was more than enough room for two little boys. He pulled some of his brother's smaller sized clothes out and, though they were still slightly too big, they were wearable. He'd never realised quite how big his brother was for his age before... Or maybe Feliciano was just small... Or maybe both...

He picked the now sleepy Italian up, carrying him downstairs and sitting him at the dining room table. He picked a packet of his favourite Wurst out of the fridge and, making sure he had enough for three, placed them in a shallow bowl of water in the microwave, setting the timer for a memorised amount of time. He'd probably get himself something else later, but he didn't have time to cook a proper meal. Feliciano would probably fall asleep before he could get it on the table.

When he turned around he noticed that Ludwig had appeared in the room. The small blonde slowly walked around the table and took the seat opposite Feliciano who was yawning and rubbing his eyes, trying his hardest to stay awake. Gilbert resisted the urge to laugh at how a simple bath had made him so tired.

The microwave behind him pinged and he popped it open, taking the meat out and dishing up the kind-of-meal. He knew if Francis had been there, he'd have turned his nose up at the suggestion that it could even be called a 'meal'. He placed the plates on the table and took one of the spare seats. He noticed the way Feliciano poked the large sausage with his fork and, once again, resisted the urge to laugh at the poor boy.

One other thing he noticed was, despite how he appeared at a first glance, just how smart Feliciano seemed to be. After watching Ludwig for a few moments, the boy soon got the idea of stabbing the Wurst with the fork and cutting with the knife, albeit clumsily, but he still managed to do it. He took the cut off bit and popped it in his mouth and, after a bit of fanning his mouth and watery eyes, swallowed the piece of meat.

"Hot?" Gilbert asked, smiling. Feliciano nodded, taking large gulps from a glass of water to cool his mouth down. "Do you want me to cut it for you?" He nodded again and Gilbert pulled the plate towards him, cutting the sausage into bite-sized chunks, before pushing it back to Feliciano and handing him the fork.

"Grazie," The brunette replied with a small smile, before turning back to the food and, blowing on it first, put a piece of meat into his mouth. Gilbert finished quickly, standing and putting his plates in the sink. Ludwig finished not long after, climbing down from the chair and pushing it in.

"I'm going to bed," He said and walked out.

"Okay, I'll be up in a bit." Gilbert called after him, raising an eyebrow at Ludwig's dismissive attitude. He thought the two had been getting along well, but he supposed he must have guessed wrong. Was Ludwig...

Nah... No way was Ludwig jealous. That was just so... so un-Ludwig! He'd ask the boy about it tomorrow, before he took him to pre-school. Toni had told him to always give Ludwig the chance to talk what he was feeling through. Gilbert had scoffed and blown it off at first, but he supposed he could try.

He felt a tugging on his trouser leg and looked down to a pair of large, round eyes staring up at him.

"I'm done," Feliciano said, looking back to the table. Sure enough, the plate was empty. It joined the others in the sink. He bent down and picked the boy up, the young child snuggling into his shoulder.

"Tired?" He asked and the brunette nodded. He carried him upstairs, to his bedroom for that night. Ludwig was waiting patiently, sitting cross-legged on the bed with his pyjamas on. He'd let Feliciano sleep in what he was wearing, but he'd need to get him some new clothes tomorrow.

He'd need to do a lot of things involving Feliciano tomorrow.

The brunette dropped to the floor as Gilbert went to get another pillow. When he came back neither of the boys had moved: Ludwig was sitting on the bed and Feliciano on the floor, both locking eyes with each other. He noticed the tense atmosphere and decided that he was definitely speaking to Ludwig tomorrow. There was obviously something going on between them, but he wasn't quite sure what.

"Come on, boys." He walked over and placed the pillow beside his brother's on the bed. "Bedtime, now." Ludwig rolled over and climbed under the covers. Feliciano hesitantly followed, climbing onto the other side of the bed and laying beneath the quilt also. Gilbert walked around to where Ludwig was, crouching so he was at eye-level with the boy.

He sighed. "Gute nacht, Lutz." He placed a kiss to the blonde's forehead and ruffling his hair before smiling and walking around the bed. "Night, Feli," he said, earning himself a surprised blink from the boy before a small smile.

He dimmed the light and walked out, leaving the door ajar so he could check on them later. He headed back downstairs and into the living room, then through to the kitchen, feeding his pet canary **– **Gilbird, he'd called the awesome little bird – before coming back into the dim lounge. He slumped on the sofa, resting his head on top of the backrest. He had a hell of a lot to do tomorrow.

He'd need to visit the police station. If Feliciano's parents were indeed looking for him, then he didn't want to be accused of kidnapping him... He'd have to speak to Antonio first, though, see if he was allowed to stay at the pre-school with Ludwig. He didn't know anywhere near enough about the boy to enrol him properly, but he hoped that Toni would do him a favour and just look after him for the day – he'd pay any costs after, considering he doubted they'd get government funding for a boy that wasn't supposed to be there. He wasn't even sure how old Feliciano was. He guessed about three, but he could easily be wrong.

He jumped as his phone started to ring. He reached for it, answering it before the loud noise could wake either of the boys.

"Hello?" He hadn't checked the caller ID.

"_Ah, Gilbert_." Francis. "_I'm sorry if I woke Ludwig_."

"No, they're both still sleeping. Michelle?"

"_Her too, but 'both'?_" Oh, shit! Did he just say that? He heard a dry laugh down the line. "_I'm guessing that was the emergency earlier. You want to explain?_" He debated whether to tell his friend or not.

"I meant..." Oh, hell be damned. "...Feliciano too."

"'_Feliciano'?_" He went on to explain how he found the boy and brought him home. There was a long pause after he'd finished. Was that good or bad? "_Have you seen the news recently?_" Was all the Frenchman said. What an odd question...

"No... But what's that to do with anything?"

"_Do you have a newspaper?_"

"Uhh..." He sifted through the papers on the table, picking up a copy of the Daily Mail that had been posted earlier. "What am I looking for?"

"_An article about someone called Romulus Vargas. You'll see what I'm..._"

"Hey! It's front page news!" He cut through his friend. "_Real Life Human Clone_!" He read aloud. That sounded kinda awesome! "_Many people believed that they would never see the day when a human would be made from scratch, without the use of two parents' DNA, and as a replica of someone who is living. Well, not any more. Human clones are no longer the thing of sci-fi movies, as one man, Romulus Vargas, has successfully managed to create a living replica of his critically ill grandson._

"_The papers and documents found in his makeshift basement laboratory all seem to indicate how the boy, now nearly four years old, seemed to be in perfect health and was showing no abnormalities. He is only known as FV – the name shown in the papers – and his location is currently unknown, as Vargas attempted to escape from the authorities with the child, but was apprehended without him. It is believed that the child was abandoned and may_..." Gilbert trailed off as he realised what Francis was suggesting. _That_ was totally not awesome. "You don't think Feliciano is..."

"_It's a possibility..._"

"Nah...No way. He's just a little boy... A lost little boy."

"_Gilbert..._"

"I'm gonna go to the police tomorrow and, you'll see, they'll find his parents and send him home."

"_Gilbert, listen..._"

"No, you're wrong, Francis. Feliciano – Feli – He's not... He's human, like you and me. He's not a..."

"_Gilbert, you sound hysterical._" That gave him pause. "_It all adds up, Gilbert. You said he was acting weird? Well, he's been cooped up in a lab his entire life. He'd probably never even seen the sun before a few days ago._" He had to admit, that was annoyingly logical. He couldn't think of a rational argument. "_And... what's the codename in the paper again?_"

"Uhh..." He scanned through to find it again. "FV... Feliciano Vargas..."

"_Gilbert..._" He heard a sigh. "_If he is who we – or at least I – think he is and the authorities get their hands on him, you realise what will happen, right?_" Gilbert found himself nodding, fully aware that Francis couldn't see him but found himself unable to voice his thoughts. He was right: They'd either keep him like a caged rat or they'd... He didn't want to think of the alternative.

"_What does 'Nonno' mean_?" He blurted instead. It suddenly came to his mind. It was his Nonno that had left him behind, not 'Grandpa' or 'Romulus'.

"Pardon?"

"_I think it's Italian, but what does 'Nonno' mean?_" He knew Francis was an avid traveller and often took Michelle on holidays abroad, so he had translation dictionaries of most languages, Italian being one of them - he'd been to Venice a few years ago.

"_One moment_." The other end of the line went quiet as Francis went off to check. His voice reappeared a few impatiently waited minutes later. "_Take a guess_," He said.

"Just tell me."

"_It means 'Grandfather'_." No! Fuck no! This was not happening. "_I think... I think that you should take the night to think it over. This is in your hands, I won't say anything to anyone if you don't want me to_." There was an uncomfortable silence, neither knowing what to say to break the tension. "_I'll see you tomorrow._" Francis said finally. "_Bonne nuit_."

"Ja, gute Nacht." Francis hung up as Gilbert pulled his phone from its charger and headed upstairs. He collapsed on his bed, glancing up at the clock. 8:13pm it flashed. Was that it? It felt later.

He looked up as a shadow appeared in the doorway. His heart sank as he realised it was the subject of his conversation with Francis.

"What is it, Feli?" The boy looked down at his feet, almost looking embarrassed.

"You... You were talking about me." Had he heard all that? This was bad, very bad. "What's a 'clone'?"

"It's nothing you need to worry about." He rolled under the covers, looking back to the boy still standing in the doorway. He lifted the blanket, smiling at the small child. "Do you want to sleep with me tonight?" Feliciano nodded and darted over, climbing in and curling up beside him, his small hands fisted in Gilbert's shirt. The albino dropped the covers and wrapped an arm around the slender boy. Feliciano snuggled closer, welcoming the comforting warmth.

"I'm sorry," He muttered, his voice muffled by Gilbert's shirt.

"What for?" Gilbert asked confusedly, but he didn't get any reply.

Soon after, the boy's breaths slowed and became rhythmic, indicating he was asleep. What Gilbert would have gave to be able to drift off and not have these horrible thoughts running through his head, but he couldn't switch them off. There were too many coincidences for it all to just be a coincidence. The evidence was stacking up far too much and he didn't like it. Everything seemed to be suggesting that Feli was this FV... He felt his arms tighten around the boy, in an almost protective manner.

If he was, then Gilbert wasn't gonna let anything happen to him. He wouldn't let the sweet little boy be hurt.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He wasn't getting much sleep tonight, that was for sure...

* * *

**Michelle (or Chelle) is Seychelles. I know that's a fairly popular fan name for her, but just in case.**

**There will be other characters appearing over the next few chapters, so you can look forward to that.**

**Uhh... I think that's it. If I remember anything after I've posted this, I'll just tag it onto the end or something. But, for now, see you in May!**

**Oh, before I go: review... _please_?**


	3. Chapter 02

**Hello again! Told you I'd be back in May, so here I am. I'm gonna be busy for the rest of the weekend, so I'm getting this up now... Or at least, I'm trying to. ****My laptop has decided that it wants to go really slow on me *glares***

**I've now wrote up to Chapter 20 and an extra 27-odd thousand words, but things are still going and I've got a lot planned, so this is going to get fairly long (as if it isn't already!). ****I finally... kind of... sort of know how it's gonna end. Yay! No, not yay... I've an idea for a bad ending and a good ending... I'm not sure which I want to do.**

**I've got an idea for an epilogue, though.**

**Anyway... I think that's it for now.**

**Enjoy~!**

* * *

"Come on, Feli..."

Gilbert attempted to persuade the infant to untangle his fingers from his shirt, so he could leave and get on with what he needed to do for the day. "Toni's a really nice guy he won't hurt you." Feliciano just shook his head and clung tighter. Gilbert resisted the urge to swear, deciding that it would not be a good idea with all the little kids hanging around.

That morning, he'd dug through some old bags of Ludwig's clothes and managed to find some that were just about the right size for Feliciano, so at the moment the smaller boy was wearing a slightly worn shirt, a pair of jeans with holes in the knees and a thick coat that was slightly too long in the arms. In fact, the only thing that was in good condition, were the pair of trainers he'd found, which – if his memory served well – Ludwig had grown out of not long after they'd been bought for him.

"Is there anything we can use to tempt him off?" The Spaniard asked, still with a smile on his face, his green eyes holding an amused glint as he bent down slightly in order to be on eye-level with the boy. He smiled in an attempt to be reassuring, but it only resulted in Feliciano clinging tighter to Gilbert's shirt. Gilbert racked his brain for an idea.

"Chocolate!" He exclaimed, Feliciano glancing up at Gilbert briefly, before burying his face again.

"Chocolate?" Antonio asked sceptically, standing up straight.

"Yeah. Get him a bar and he'll go with you."

Despite the odd look on his face, Antonio headed back inside, reappearing a few moments later with a small bar of chocolate. Gilbert looked down to the boy who was eyeing the sweet hungrily. "Feli, if you go with Toni then you can have his bar of chocolate." Feliciano's eyes flickered up towards Gilbert then back at the chocolate, before coming back to Gilbert again.

"It's okay," Antonio encouraged, smiling widely once again. "You'll be with me for a bit, but Gilbert will be back to pick you up later."

"Promise?" Feliciano asked, looking back up at Gilbert. Was that the reason why he wouldn't go? Was he worried he wouldn't come back?

"I promise," He replied, patting the boy's head. This time, when Antonio reached forwards to take him, he went with much more ease.

"You owe me for letting you do this, you know," Toni remarked, now the little boy was safely in his arms and munching happily on the sweet. "Liz wants my head."

"Yeah, I know," Gilbert replied, rolling his eyes. "I'll make it up to you. Besides, you'd think she'd be nicer, considering it's the awesome me we're talking about." He plastered his trademark grin on his face as Antonio shook his head and chuckled.

"Just because you two have a history, doesn't mean that she has to like you," He countered, as Gilbert waved him off.

"Ahh... You worry too much..." He crouched down next to Ludwig, who had been standing patiently by his side the entire time. He hadn't had time to talk with him earlier, thanks to nearly sleeping through his alarm, but he'd make sure that he would do it as soon as possible. "Watch out for Feliciano, okay?" Ludwig hesitated before nodding. "Ludwig, I'm trusting you, okay?" There was an uncomfortable pause before the blonde replied.

"Okay..." He muttered, looking away.

"Good." He ruffled his hair, which Ludwig vainly tried to smooth back down again. "I'll see ya later, then." He repeated the greeting to Antonio, before turning and heading for the exit. As he stepped outside he saw another familiar figure walking up the steps to the Town Hall, which doubled as the Pre-school during school hours.

"Ah, Gilbert," It was Francis. The blonde was stumbling up the stairs, Michelle holding one hand, a blonde boy in his other arm and another, almost identical boy trailing slightly behind. "I was hoping to catch you before you left."

"Hi, Uncle Gilbert!" Michelle exclaimed, running over to hug his leg, her long dark hair was, for once, free of its normal low pigtails. He also noticed how oddly unkempt Francis looked. He was decidedly vain and rarely ever stepped out of the house without looking his best. He had stubble where it shouldn't be (instead of just the neatly trimmed area on his chin) and his normally well groomed, shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a clumsy ponytail at the nape of his neck.

"Yeah, hi, Gilbert!" The other boy by the blonde's feet exclaimed beaming widely. His golden-blonde head bobbing as he jumped up and down between the step he was standing on and the one below. His blue eyes opened wide as he misjudged a jump, falling down a step as he regained his balance, before casually smiling and readjusting his glasses.

"Hiya Michelle, Alfred. You too Matthew," He said. The little boy in Francis' arms clung tighter to the blonde, burying his face in Francis' shirt. He placed a hand on the bubbly girl's head as she turned to face her half-brother, her large dark eyes staring up at the blonde. "You look a mess." He stated to Francis simply.

"I know," He sighed, placing the shy boy in his arms on the floor as his twin came up to stand beside him. "But Monique was visiting and Arthur came by this morning and gave me the boys to look after." So, that explained why Alfred and Matthew were in his care. "He had to dash off, because he has an assignment due in this morning and didn't have the time to drop them off here." And that explained why Arthur dumped the twins on Francis.

Arthur was just like him and Francis – an older brother-slash-parental figure – but with two crucial differences, he wasn't actually blood related to any of his charges and he was markedly younger than they both were. Gilbert had turned twenty-two last month and so had been well within the legal age to look after Ludwig when their parents had died just under two years ago. It was the same for Francis, he was to turn twenty-two later this year and so there had been no problems when taking custody of Michelle.

Arthur, however, had been a different story. He was a smart kid, set to pass his A Levels with As across the board and had been assured to get into whatever University course he had wanted. But when their adoptive parents had died, Arthur had still only been sixteen. The custody trial date was agreed on was to be held on the day after his seventeenth birthday, so as to give him every opportunity to take custody of the four kids that would be going into his care: Alfred and Matthew, who at the time were only two; Jett, who was eight and Sajid who had been fifteen. In the end, Arthur had been granted custody on two conditions: that he was to remain in education and that his grades didn't start to drop. Social services were to monitor this and if they weren't satisfied then it was to be deemed that he was unsuitable to be caring for children and maintaining a suitable career path.

"I hope he's doing okay," Gilbert muttered He couldn't imagine it if their little family got torn apart by social services. Even if it wasn't the ideal situation, they were happy – there was yet to be a day when Alfred walked into the Pre-School and wasn't beaming like a hundred watt light bulb.

"He's fine for now," Francis replied. "But give me a minute while I take these inside." There were two loud 'bye's as Michelle detached herself from his leg and darted after her half-brother, her light-blue dress billowing out behind her. A few minutes later Francis reappeared, this time without the three children hanging off his arms. "I'm guessing you know what I want to talk about."

"Yeah, but not here. You don't know who might hear." Francis nodded, and they walked off to find a more secluded spot to talk.

In the end, they came to a nearby park that was, thankfully, almost entirely deserted. They found an isolated bench surrounded by currently barren trees that were just starting to bud. It was quite the picturesque scene, Gilbert mused, and he was sure the Frenchman beside him, would have loved the scene folding out before him. The morning frost still lingered in the shaded areas, where the sun had yet to reach it and melt it away, and their breaths fogged in the chilly air, despite the bright sun that was shining down, the sky devoid of clouds that morning.

He couldn't help thinking how, had this been some corny movie, that one, or maybe both of them would probably proclaim their undying love for one another, only for it to be torn away by protesting family members because they only wanted the best for their child. However, in the end, they realise that they were only making them unhappy in doing so, so they give in and allow them to be together...

But, nah. That was never gonna happen, they were mates and that was all they were ever gonna be. There were lines that you just didn't cross...

Okay, maybe they had been crossed once or twice: like the time when the three of them (he, Francis and Toni) had all gone out on a bender and they'd all woken up the following morning naked, in the same bed, sprawled across one another, none of them with any lucid memory of what had happened the night before. Safe to say, they decided to never talk about that night again.

"What are you going to do with him?" Francis asked, breaking Gilbert out of his reverie and bringing him back to earth.

"I... I'm not sure." He leant forwards, resting his head in his hands. "If I go to the police and he is who we think he is then... I don't wanna think what'll happen. But if he isn't and a family is out there, grieving over their lost son, then I don't want to stop him from going back." He sighed, tugging on his hair nervously.

"What do you think they're going to do if the police find out you've been caring for a child you don't have custody for?" Gilbert looked up at that. The blonde was leaning back in his chair, staring ahead. His sky-blue eyes were focused somewhere on the other side of the park. "You need to think of yourself as well." The blue orbs shifted to the man sitting beside him.

"But..."

"It's not just you, you have to think about. Ludwig is dependent on you too." Gilbert's heart froze. "Imagine what would happen to him if something happened to you."

"No I..." Gilbert trailed off. The blonde had a point. He let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hands through his hair. Life sucked sometimes...

"Why don't we just take a walk and see where our feet take us?" Gilbert nodded and stood, stretching.

"Besides, those park benches are seriously uncomfortable," He muttered. Francis laughed, standing also, patting his friend on the shoulder and shaking his head.

"You, my dear friend, are unbelievable," He muttered, looking up at the slightly taller albino.

"Thanks!" Gilbert exclaimed, grinning.

* * *

Antonio loved kids. Not in the perverted way many people took that sentence, but in a way he found them a pleasure to be around... Not that that really sounded much better, to be honest. He had a 'natural ability' with them, as someone had told him once, and he enjoyed his job. Sure, it didn't pay that well and he got odd looks when he told people he was a Nursery Nurse, but it was worth it.

The little boy he'd been put in charge of today, however, was really trying his patience.

Feliciano had barely spoken five words to him, he either just nodded or shook his head or simply didn't reply when being talked to. He also insisted on clinging to him like a baby monkey. The few times he had managed to coax the boy onto the floor, something startled him and made him clingy again or made him cry and he needed comfort.

They were currently playing with the paint, and Feliciano was enraptured by trying to paint on a large square of paper. The look of concentration on his face was just adorable, Antonio had to admit, and especially the way his tongue poked out from between his lips slightly and how his brows were furrowed. He looked up from the boy as Elizaveta wandered past tapping him on the shoulder. The look on her face said it all. He stood slowly, not wanting to disturb the young boy.

"He's really getting the best out of that paint, isn't he?" Her green eyes were shining as she gazed down on him, tucking a stray strand of her wavy, mousy-brown hair behind her ear as she tightened the band holding it in a ponytail high on her head.

"Yeah," Antonio replied, taking a testing step away. "It's the first time I've managed to escape all day." He took another step back, then another. Elizaveta laughed.

"Just go then, I'll keep an eye on him." She laughed again as he vaulted the counter and headed into the back rooms. She looked down as she felt a tugging on the leg of her jeans. "What is it Yong Soo?" She crouched in front of the Oriental boy and his brother who he seemed to have dragged up with him. The older of the two boys was glaring at the younger venomously, his straight, dark hair falling in his eyes slightly where his fringe needed cutting.

"Don't," Kiku muttered to the younger boy, his dark eyes never leaving his younger sibling.

"But I have to!" Yong replied, bouncing on his heels, his shorter and slightly wavier hair swept to the side, except for one odd piece that insisted on sticking up.

"What's wrong?" She asked, drawing their attention back to her.

"Guess whose birthday it is?" Yong Soo said, smiling widely. The younger of the two siblings was rarely ever seen without a smile, this completely contrasting with the elder, whom you had to work to get one out of.

"I don't know," She replied, playing along with their game. "Whose is it?"

"Kiku's!" He grabbed his brother's arm, jumping excitedly.

"Wow! Really?" She turned her gaze to Kiku who was still glaring at his brother. "How old are you now, Kiku." His eyes stayed on Yong Soo for a moment, before changing to Elizaveta and softening slightly.

"I'm four, Miss Liz." He replied, ever the polite one.

"Really, you're getting to be a big boy, aren't you?" She saw a small smile tug at his lips before he nodded and ran off, probably to go and find Alfred who she'd noticed he'd become quite close to recently. She didn't like to think of the circumstances as to why they'd got close though, it always felt like a lead brick had been dropped on her heart. They'd started becoming close about four months ago, not long after the Kiku and Yong Soo's mother, Lien, had died and their father, Yao, had been left in charge of their four children: Kiku, who was the eldest, Yong Soo and two younger twins, Xiao and Mei.

She shook her head and turned her attention back to the Italian boy that she was supposed to be watching, surprised to find him staring at her. She smiled at him, hoping not to make him nervous.

"Hello, Feliciano," she said, keeping her voice soft and soothing. "I'm Elizaveta, but you can call me Liz." She walked over, surprised to find he didn't shy away, and took a seat on the chair next to him. "What have you got there?" She indicated the picture in his hands. What he had painted actually looked human shaped, which was unusual for someone his age to actually get. As her eyes travelled back to Feliciano she noticed he that he wasn't looking at her face any more More specifically, his eyes had moved down slightly. Even more specifically: To her chest. Just as she was thinking this, he reached out one hand.

"What are they?" He asked, pointing at what he'd just been staring at. She blinked, once, twice. Did he really just ask that? Sure he was young, but even at his age children should know what breasts were – or boobies, as the word they most often used (quickly followed by a giggle from saying such a word). As he reached out further she quickly, but gently, grabbed his wrist and placed his hand in his lap. She could feel a blush heating her face at the awkwardness of the situation. She'd been asked many questions before – even that one question that every parent deigns to answer – but that had to be a new one.

"Uh..." Amazingly intelligent way to start, Liz. "They're called boobies." Oh, God... "They're these things grown-up girls have." There, that should do it...

"Why?"

_Damn!_

"Well... Mummies use them to feed babies when they're born." _Hopefully_...

The boy cocked his head, looking confused. "What's a 'Mummy'?" Her mouth fell open at that question. She can't have heard that right. She asked him to repeat it and he did: "What's a 'Mummy'?"

Oh, holy shite! How could he not know what a mummy was? That was often the first word children learn to say (or Mama at least) but he didn't know what it meant?

"Liz? Are you okay?" Antonio's voice shocked her back to reality. "You look a bit pale."

"Feliciano, could you ask Antonio your question again, please?" The boy's confused gaze turned to the Spaniard as he repeated the question again. The same look that she guessed was on her face crossed his. "I think I need to give Gilbert a call," She muttered, and Antonio nodded, sitting down and taking her seat as she stood and walked over to the phone. She punched in the number that she _really_ shouldn't know off by heart and pressed dial, moving into one of the back rooms so she wouldn't be overheard. The person on the other end of the line barely had the chance to answer the call before she blurted into the mobile device: "Who is Feliciano and where did you get him from?"

Their aimless ambling hadn't taken them anywhere and, in the end, Gilbert and Francis had found themselves in the centre of town. It was then that Gilbert's mobile had decided to start ringing. As the rock tune blared out of the tinny speakers, a few heads turned in their direction. Francis raised an eyebrow at the dated song.

"What?" Gilbert asked, noticing his friend's expression. "It's a good song!" He pressed the button to answer it, not looking at the caller ID, and, before he could even say 'Hello', an all too familiar voice burst out of the speakers.

"_Who is Feliciano and where did you get him from?_" Oh... shit.

"I'm sorry, could you say that louder?" He retorted automatically. "I couldn't hear you over the sound of my eardrums bursting."

He heard an aggravated sigh from the other side of the line. "_Answer the question, Gilbert."_

"Uh..." What could he say? "Italy?"

"_Don't get smart with me, Gilbert._" He _really_ hated it when she used that tone of voice.

"I'm not! I'm not, I swear!" It was all he could do to stop himself from laughing at the situation. There was an uncomfortable pause on the other end of the line.

"_If I find you're lying..._"

"I'm not, Liz." He noticed the look Francis was giving him, but ignored it. "I don't know any more than that, I swear." He heard another aggravated sigh from the other side of the line.

"_How is he in your care then?_" He should have known that question would be asked sooner or later. He'd seen it on the tip of Toni's tongue earlier, but the Spaniard had been too polite to ask. However, politeness and manners between him and Elizaveta had gone out of the window years ago...

"I... found him..."

"... _Elaborate?_"

"I found him in an alley the other day." Silence. "He was filthy and starving and I took him home." Still nothing. "I'm trying to work out what to do with him now." Still silence. It didn't sound like she'd hung up, though. "Liz...? Are you still there?"

"_That is the most stupid, idiotic, reckless, sweetest, caring, downright ridiculous thing you've ever done!_" Was that an insult or a compliment? Both? Is it even possible for something to be both? "_Are you going to the police?_"

"I can't." He pinched the bridge of his nose, he could feel a headache coming on. "I think he was abandoned. If I do that they'll just send him back to a family who don't want him." He didn't dare tell her his true fear, besides 'I think he's some mad scientist's clone of his grandson and if I take him to the police I doubt he'll get a normal life' just sounded ridiculous, never mind like something out of a dodgy story.

"_I'll speak to you later about this. I have to go."_ And with that she hung up. Gilbert sighed and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He'd have all hell to pay when he went to pick the boys up.

Antonio sat back down next to Feliciano as he heard Elizaveta's muffled voice in the back room. The boy's eyes had turned back to the piece of paper in front of him and he was using the paintbrush to apply paint again. He really was working hard on it...

"Toni?" He turned to face a pair of almost identical faces. "Does Ludwig have a new brother?" Alfred and Matthew were standing next to him, identical looks of curiosity on their faces. The two blondes had their heads tilted in the same way and it was only recently that he'd begun to be able to tell the twins apart... most of the time.

Alfred was marginally taller and had a much more outgoing personality, willing to talk and play with any and every other one of the children. Matthew, however, was much quieter. His eyes were darker, appearing almost violet at times, and his hair had a slight wave to it. He was rather shy and only talked to and played with select people, no matter how much his brother tried to draw him out of his shell.

"I don't know." To be fair, the issue with Feliciano confused the hell out of him.

Gilbert appears in the morning with a little Italian boy in his arms asking if the pre-school will take him for the day while he sorts some stuff out. Nothing had been signed and, at the moment, they were breaking the law by having the boy in the setting.

He stood, letting Alfred take his seat.

"I'm Alfred," The boy announced, smiling widely, his blue eyes shining behind his glasses. Feliciano just stared at him. He blinked once, twice, three times before replying.

"Feliciano." Alfred tilted his head before smiling and laughing again.

"Come on, let's play!" He grabbed Feliciano's hand tugged the stunned boy to his feet, dragging him outside, Matthew trailing quietly after them. Antonio chuckled to himself, glad that Alfred's enthusiasm was doing some good.

He looked down at the painting the little Italian had been doing and picked up the paintbrush that had fallen out of his hand as he was dragged away. Was that...? He picked it up, getting a closer look. You could clearly see it was supposed to be a person.

Which was odd...

He looked across at something one of the other children had tried to paint. It ended up more like a blob of circles and lines than anything even remotely humanoid. He looked back to the figure in his hand. Granted it was far from perfect, but it had a head, arms and legs, even toes and fingers – even though he counted about twenty of them. They were slightly out of proportion, but it was amazing for someone so young.

As Liz came back from where she had been on the phone, he walked over, holding the painting out.

"What's that?" She asked, looking slightly flushed. It was evidently not a pleasant conversation she'd just been having.

"Feliciano made it." He handed the figure to the woman and the way her eyebrows shot up said it all.

"Oh, my..." She muttered, glancing around. "Where is he?"

"Oh!" Antonio turned to the door that lead outside, tugging the plastic curtain aside so they could see out clearly. Feliciano was playing with Alfred and Matthew plus a few others as they tried to catch the bubbles being blown by a machine. He had a wide smile on his face as he ran and jumped about, trying to catch as many bubbles as he could. "Alfred took him outside to play."

They stood, simply watching the children happily play together. Temporarily forgetting their jobs, they watched the peculiar, shy Italian child bounce about with the rest of the group as if he was the most normal child in the world.

* * *

**For the character names:**

**Monique - Monaco. I don't know of any names for her, so I chose her name. She's Francis' cousin and a year or so younger than him.**

**Jett - Australia**

**Saj/Sajid - India**

**Lien Chung - Vietnam. Yes, in this China and Vietnam have kids. I didn't want to make Yao another big brother/father-figure, so I just made him their dad instead.**

**Xiao - Hong Kong**

**Mei - Taiwan**

**All the kids are either three or four (depending on when their birthday is in relation to the school year - Alfred and Matthew are the youngest, being born in June) excluding Yong Soo, who is only two. Xiao and Mei are both still babies.**

**Belle (Belgium) was also originally in this chapter, but she only had a line in the middle of a big piece of dialogue I didn't really like, so I just cut it all out. She's working with Liz and Toni in the Pre-School, if you were wondering. I can't remember if she appears again... Maybe I'll have to squeeze her in somewhere.**

**I think that's it. I'll try and update weekly - every Friday or Saturday - so I'll see you then!**

**EDIT: How the hell can I do all this, and then forget to post it? This was meant to be up six hours ago! Damn you, Tumblr for distracting me!**


	4. Chapter 03

**Hello~!**

**This was meant to be up at the weekend, but life turned against me and it didn't happen.**

**This chapter sucks! -_- There are a lot of things I don't like about it, but I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer.**

**So, uh, here it is.**

* * *

"I'm all for wandering aimlessly around the stores, but right now I'm not really in the mood," Francis muttered, rubbing the unwanted stubble he hadn't had a chance to shave off self-consciously. His normally trim beard was lost in among the fuzz that had grown overnight and his hair did not look good at all. Well, he still looked good no matter what he looked like – he could pull almost anything off – but he was a man who took care in his appearance. Some may call it vanity, he just called it attentiveness.

He sighed as, yet again, his friend didn't seem to have heard him. He really didn't want to sound like he was whining, but he_ really_ couldn't be bothered to walk any more. He looked up at the marginally taller man, noticing how his eyes were focused ahead and the serious expression on his face. He sighed again. When Gilbert appeared to get serious, you knew you were in a tough situation.

Francis nearly walked into his shoulder as Gilbert stopped suddenly, a smile tugging at the corner of the albino's lips. Suddenly he burst out into fits of laughter, earning them some odd looks from people around them.

"Wh-what's so funny?" Now Francis was beginning to get annoyed. He had been getting ignored for the past hour – since not long after Gilbert got off the phone to Elizaveta, actually – and now he suddenly bursts out laughing. Francis liked to think of himself as a patient man, but this was pushing it to the limit. "Gilbert!"

An arm came up, pointing ahead. "L-look!" He managed between fits of giggles. Francis followed the pointing finger and saw it leading to...

...The police station?

_Was... that... it..._

"May I ask how that's so funny?" He could hear the clipped tone in his voice. Gilbert was really grating at his nerves.

"Because I've been trying to avoid them all day!" He took a deep breath, standing up straight, before laughing loudly again. Francis rolled his eyes and walked on, knowing his friend would follow, and sure enough, not even ten seconds later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Wait! Wait!" He slowed, but didn't stop until the chuckling from behind his ear had finished.

"Done now?" He asked, as Gilbert appeared back beside him, nodding.

"Yeah... pretty much." He saw another smile twitch at his lips.

"You laugh again and I'm ditching you!" Okay, maybe that did sound like something a stroppy teenager would say, but he was at his wit's end.

"Okay!" Gilbert put his hands up in a mock form of surrender and Francis hit him. Looking back ahead he saw they were almost upon the police station. Out front of it Gilbert paused.

"Are we going in?" He asked, still annoyed.

"I...I dunno..." Gilbert muttered, before he shook his head, turning to face the building. "Ah, to hell with it!" He bounded up the stone steps, heading inside. Francis, after a moment of stunned hesitation, quickly followed. He had to admit, he hadn't actually expected him to go inside, but it was good that he did... At least, he hoped it was.

The inside of the building was spacious, but there were a lot of people to fill up the vast room. There was a large reception desk, with three people sitting behind it, and a large queue leading up to it. Gilbert hesitated by the door.

"Do you really think we need to do this?" He asked, uncertainty leaking through into his voice.

"We're here now, aren't we?"

"Yeah..." He paused, obviously thinking. "I need a piss first."

"What?" Before Francis could stop him, Gilbert darted off, loosing himself in the crowd. This should buy at least a few more minutes the albino decided, besides, he really did need to go or he'd wet himself. He saw a large sign hanging from the ceiling and easily found the door. He entered, relieved himself, then came back out. He paused a few steps from the door, unsure of what to do next. If he went back to Francis he'd have to tell and he couldn't just sneak past as he doubted the blonde would have moved from the door.

As he was trying to figure this out, someone ran into him, nearly knocking him to the floor.

"Hey!" He exclaimed. "Watch it!"

"Ah, mi dispiace. Mi dispiace." It was an aging man, he had to be well into his sixties. He was digging around in his pockets for something and, when he pulled whatever it was out, Gilbert noticed the handcuffs on the man's wrists. He was an escaped prisoner? "Please, Sir," The man said breathlessly, pressing something into his hand. "If you see him take..."

"Hey!" He was cut off by two guards running towards them. "Step away from him, Sir!" The old man pressed them into a prayer-like position, what he had given him trapped between them. It felt like a piece of card.

"Please, see my Grandson is well. I beg of you." The man looked one step away from getting down on his knees and actually begging him.

"Sir, please step away." One of the officers ordered, taking the old man by the arm. "He could be dangerous, please stay back."

"What's that in your hand?" The other officer asked, stepping towards him. He looked at the piece of card in his hand and his heart skipped a beat.

No... It couldn't be...

The card wasn't just a card, it was a photograph. And in the photo were two faces, one of the man and the other of a young boy. Both were smiling.

"Please, Sir!" The old man, still begging.

"Okay, Vargas, you can shut up now," One officer ordered.

"Sir, please give me the photograph." The other officer said, holding his hand out towards Gilbert..

"Please!" The old man, again. "Please find Feliciano!" He was getting dragged away.

"Sir," The other officer again. He finally found himself able to tear his eyes away from the photo. "Give me that photograph. It could lead us towards some vital evidence."

"Evidence?" Had he just said that aloud?

"Yes, hand it over."

"Is that all he is to you?" He snarled. They'd started to draw a crowd, but he couldn't care at that moment.

"Pardon?" The officer had stopped dragging the man away, waiting for his colleague to catch up.

"Is that all he is to you, evidence?" He couldn't help the bitterness creeping into his voice. The two officers shared a look, while the old man looked hopeful.

"Sir, what do you know?" The first officer asked.

"Like fuck I'm gonna tell you." He shouted. He noticed the way the officer's face hardened. He'd seen that look before – the man was preparing to book him.

"Sir, hand the photograph over and tell us what you know. This is of vital importance." The officer stepped forwards, making a grab for the photo, but Gilbert stepped backwards, holding his hand behind him and out of reach. When the officer was close enough, he punched him in the face, sending him staggering back a few steps, blinking the stars from his vision. As the officer lunged for him again, he jammed his elbow into the other's gut, sending the man crumpling to his knees.

He'd been in a lot of fights in his teenage years.

Gilbert darted into the crowd, which parted nicely before him, trying to find his way back towards the exit. He knew he'd have a bruised hand by tomorrow and that he'd now be wanted for assaulting a police officer. He knew he wasn't exactly inconspicuous – his albinism made sure of that – but he'd just have to keep a low profile until this blew over. As he reached the door he saw Francis waiting there. He grabbed the blonde's arm and dragged him outside.

The blonde let out a startled cry, nearly falling down the steps outside.

"No time to explain." He replied, pausing momentarily as they reached the street. However, as a group of police appeared from the doors, he started running again. "Just run!" He dragged Francis after him as the Frenchman muttered something in French which he guessed were a string of curse words, but matched his speed. After a while, Gilbert pulled him into an alley and crouched down behind a bin. The blonde followed suit, wondering how in hell he'd got himself into this situation.

"Would you mind explaining why we are running from the police?" Gilbert just shushed him as two officers went past, neither running, just walking at a brisk pace. Francis knew this sort of situation wasn't new to Gilbert, he'd even had to bail him out of jail once or twice. Francis, however had always tried to remain on the right side of the law – though with his dear friend around that was often easier said than done. "Gilbert!"

"Okay, okay. If I explain will you shut up?"

"Of course!" Damn that albino to hell if it was all over something trivial.

"You were right all along!" Why did he have a smile on his face when he said that?

"What are you on about?"

"Feliciano!"

"Then why are you smiling?" A look of confusion crossed the albino's face.

"I am?" The smile fell slightly. "Sorry, I'm just so pumped at the moment." He held out something Francis hadn't noticed had been in his hand. "Look at this." It was a photograph of a boy and an old man. "That's Feliciano," Gilbert pointed to the boy. "And that old man – Vargas, I think they called him – gave it to me, telling me to find his grandson and look after him, before he was dragged off. _And_ the police said that this could lead them to some vital evidence, you can't arrest a guy for creating a clone if there is no clone, no matter the paperwork." There was an odd sort of light in his red eyes.

"So why are we running?" That honestly hadn't answered his question.

"Oh, I just attacked a police officer. No big deal." Francis resisted the urge to smack his head against the wall behind him. Why in hell's name did he have to get roped into this?

"In that case, I have to say 'Adieu'." Francis stood and went to leave as Gilbert grabbed his arm.

"Wait? What? No!" Gilbert stuttered out words of protest. He really could be the most eloquent of people sometimes. Instead of stopping, Francis backed up, trying to shake his arm free from his friend's tight grasp. He only stopped when he felt something collide with his shoulder and a muttered swear word.

He spun around, Gilbert having let go as he'd bumped into the person, and bent down to help them gather up the folders they had been carrying.

"Ah, I'm so sorry!" He muttered to the person.

"Yeah?" The other replied, an odd tone to his voice. "Well don't walk out of a bloody alley backwards next time."

"Oh, believe me, I don't plan on it," Hold on a sec... That voice was incredibly familiar. He looked up at the same time as the other person did and they crashed their heads together. He sat back, rubbing his forehead where they'd connected. As he opened his eyes he saw a pair of familiar bright-green ones, the owner of which was rubbing his head also.

"I should have realised it'd be you – the bane of my existence..." He said, and Francis couldn't help smiling.

"Oh, Arthur, you can't go two seconds without insulting me can you?" Arthur just rolled his eyes and resumed collecting the folders which, Francis assumed, contained his school work. Once they were all picked up, he stood, holding his hand out for the ones Francis was holding. After he had them all safely back in his arms, he turned to the two older males, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What were you two doing in there, anyway?" He asked. They just shared a look as Arthur put his hand up, taking his question quickly back. "I don't think I want to know."

"Oh, shit!" Francis heard Gilbert mutter as he grabbed their arms and tugged them back into the alley, much to his own chagrin and Arthur's surprise.

"What the hell!" Arthur exclaimed, causing Gilbert to slam his hand over his mouth. He crouched behind the bins again, pulling Arthur with him, who was protesting to the best of his ability. Francis grabbed the teen's legs, pinning them still and ensuring he couldn't kick out, as Gilbert wrapped an arm around his middle, making him unable to fight back.

After a short while, Gilbert relaxed his hold and Arthur squirmed free, keeping a tight hold on the folders which, miraculously, he hadn't dropped throughout the whole ordeal.

"What in hell's name was that!" He shouted, eyes wide and face flushed as he backed away as much as he could from the two older males.

"Arthur..." Francis reached towards him and he scrambled to the side, out of reach.

"We're trying to hide from the police," Gilbert interjected, cutting his friend off. "And we can't do that if you keep running your mouth off."

"Police!" Arthur exclaimed, before reaching up and running a hand through his hair. "Shit! No, this can't be happening!" He tugged on the strands, anxiously. His eyes came up, a green-eyed glare being shot at Francis. "How could you drag me into this?"

"Me?" Francis looked pointedly at Gilbert. "He's the one who assaulted a police officer." Gilbert just rolled his eyes and Arthur looked ready to lash out. Arthur, much like Gilbert, had a quick temper. Unlike Gilbert, however, he had far more control over it and was often able to fight it back down before it could spill over. He had a habit of biting back with scathing words at whoever or whatever got him annoyed and rarely ever resorted to physical violence. However, if the way his fingers were digging holes into the folders' edges was any indication, this scenario had just pushed him over the edge.

"I don't believe this... I can't... I..." He paused, an odd look crossing his face. "I'm going." He suddenly turned and walked towards the end of the alley. "I'm not getting roped into this." He gave them a two-fingered salute over his shoulder as he walked off.

Francis went to go after him, but Gilbert grabbed his arm and pulled him in the opposite direction, shaking his head.

"Let him go." He said, glancing back at Francis before looking down at the piles of rubbish. "He's right, he doesn't want to get roped into this." The albino walked further down the alley and, after searching beneath a couple of broken crates, found a battered, old baseball-cap. It was a bit grubby, but it did a good job of hiding his snowy-white hair, so it would have to do.

Calmly, they stepped out into the street at the other end of the alley and began walking in the general flow of traffic. Francis tried not to tense every time a police car passed or they walked past an officer, but he couldn't help it. The albino had, somehow, managed to stay on the right side of the law since he'd taken charge of Ludwig – excluding things like speeding and parking tickets, but they were relatively minor – but now this had happened, Francis wasn't sure what the protocol would be.

Foster parents and adoptive parents were supposed to be clean. An exception had been made for Gilbert because of their blood relation and because, despite the number of offences he had committed, he was damn good at avoiding charges, and so the number on his record was only a fraction of what he'd really done. He'd had quite the turbulent teenage years and, despite Antonio and Francis warning him against it, he'd gotten himself mixed in with the wrong crowd and had done a lot of things that he would later regret.

Before they knew it, they were in a familiar street and Gilbert was pulling his keys out of his pocket, running up to the door and unlocking it. He entered and Francis followed, glancing around at the almost impeccable tidiness of the house. That was another quirk of Gilbert's he'd decided that he'd never understand: for as long as Francis had known him the man had been a neat-freak, almost to the point of obsessiveness. It was quite the shock to see Gilbert's home life compared to what he was like outside.

"Hang on a sec," Gilbert called back. "I just need to feed Gilbird. I'll be back in a minute!"

"Gilbird?" Francis trailed after him, following into a room off to the side. It seemed to be some sort of spare room, with a sofa-bed, TV and several toys scattered around the place (which Gilbert had promptly begun to clear up). There was also a large birdcage on a table next to the window on the far wall.

"Sorry, Feli got a bit crazy with the toys this morning," Gilbert apologised, knocking something under the sofa with his toes.

"Don't worry about it," Francis replied, smiling lightly. "When Alfred and Matthew are over, between them and Chelle, it's practically impossible to keep the place tidy." Gilbert opened one of the cupboards, placing the toys in a box at the bottom before reaching to the top and pulling down a bag. He led over to the birdcage and a canary Francis hadn't spotted earlier cheeped, flying around in small circles in the enclosed space. Gilbert opened the hatch and the yellow, fluffy creature flew out, perching delicately on top of the albino's head and settling down in his messy hair.

"See? I've trained him well." Francis chuckled. He was partial to friends of the feathered kind also, but he much preferred an elegant white dove. He'd had one before, Pierre, but it had broken out and escaped and he hadn't seen him since. Pierre had been the type of carrier pigeon that was used in the olden days. Quite the romanticist, he liked to imagine stories of two lovers kept apart by their warring families, only able to communicate through a lone, white messenger dove.

Gilbert poured the bird-feed into the hopper in the cage, picking out some and holding it in his hand. The little chick hopped down, perching on his hand and pecking at the seeds. An odd look crossed Gilbert's face as the corners of his mouth rose into a small smile, far different from the confident smirk he normally wore, one that seemed to suggest utter calm. Francis couldn't help a smile rising to his own face as he brought his hand up and gently petted the bird, its downy feathers soft against his fingers.

Suddenly, it cheeped, flying off of Gilbert's hand and going back into the cage, settling on the hopper and digging into the feed inside. The hungry creature had finished the seed on Gilbert's hand and was now chowing down on the ones he had placed in the cage itself. Gilbert gently shut the door, locking the latch and shutting the bird inside.

"What're we going to do now?" Francis asked, sitting himself on the sofa.

"We wait 'till school closes."

* * *

**Crappy chapter end is crappy...**

**This was a little introduction and a lot of filler.**

**Oh, and giving a two fingered salute is the British equivalent of flipping someone off.**

**Hopefully next chapter will be better, see you soon.**


	5. Chapter 04

**Hello again! I didn't think I'd manage to get this up this weekend - the Grandparents are visiting, you see - but I've managed to escape and edit and now post chapter 4!**

**I can't believe how many views this is getting! When I uploaded chapter 3 it was 195 or something like that. I look at it today and it's at 456! In one week I've over doubled the views! I love you all so much, I really do! It makes my day when I get an email with an alert or, even better, a review!**

**Oh, on that subject: Thank you to the reviewers and double thanks if you've reviewed more than once! I try to reply to them all and I'll answer any questions you may have (as long as it doesn't mean spoilers).**

**And, if you haven't noticed, I've changed the summary _again_. Why can I not write it and then be happy? Hell, why can I not write _anything_ and then be happy with it? :( Ah, well. I really like the part about half way through this chapter - I barely had to do any editing on it ^_^**

**I'm still trying to write chapter 20. I've wrote about 100 words in two weeks... oops. But I've been bitten by the GerEng bug. So you never know, you might get a GerEng story popping up on my profile sometime!**

**It seems Word is convinced that 'Elizaveta' should be 'Elisabeth'. I've even tried adding Liz's name into the dictionary, but _no_ it's still got to be Elisabeth. This is why spell check annoys me -_-'**

**The excrement starts to make physical contact with a hydro-electric powered oscillating air current distribution device in this chapter - In layman's terms, the shit's gonna hit the fan.**

**One last thing. I'm a complete novice at French, so please excuse it if the few lines of it aren't perfect.**

**Now, enjoy~!**

* * *

When Gilbert and Francis arrived to pick up their siblings, the albino was pulled to the side by Elizaveta and told to wait until the end. She disappeared back inside, appearing a minute or so later with Michelle. The little girl darted over to her blonde brother and he scooped her up, spinning her in a small circle.

"How was your day, ma chéri?" He asked the girl.

"Uh...Trés bien!" She replied and Francis smiled.

"C'est bon." He placed her down and walked over to the racks get her lunch-box and coat, Liz following after him. They talked about something as Michelle put on her jacket, Francis bending down to zip it up. As he stood, Michelle said something and the two adults quickly wrapped it up, Francis turning and giving Gilbert a wave before leaving through the double doors and heading home.

Various other parents arrived, picked up their kids – some staying just long enough for a short chat – and left. Arthur arrived towards the end to pick up Alfred and Matthew, shooting Gilbert a glare as he walked in. He bent down as Alfred ran up to him, the little boy almost bowling the teen over, Matthew following behind him at a much more leisurely pace. As the three brothers left hand-in-hand, Liz turned to him and beckoned him over. He followed her inside.

The tables were folded against the far wall, the child-sized chairs stacked in front of them. Bella was sweeping as he entered, a multicoloured pile of dirt in the middle of the floor. He could see in the room next door the backs of Antonio, Ludwig and Feliciano's heads. He looked to be reading to the two boys – keeping them occupied while Liz talked to him, he guessed.

"What's all this about?" He asked as she led him over to a rack with drying paintings. She pulled a couple off and walked away, he followed. "Liz?"

"Feliciano, he's..." She paused, waving a hand in the air as if she was trying to pluck the correct word out of it. "Unbelievable." She sighed. "He's got such an amazing talent in expressive art and design." She handed him the paintings, a few drawings and a small model of a person. "He's got the skills of someone a good few years older than him and that model is exceptional. Most three or four year-olds, if they tried to do that, it'd end up as a blob resembling a star more than a person but that..." She didn't need to say more, he got the picture. Then something worrying clicked.

"But what you were saying on the phone," He replied, noticing the way Liz's face dropped. "It sounded like something bad had happened."

"That's what I need to talk to you about." _Uh oh_, that didn't sound good. "These pictures he drew," She continued, handing him the drawings. "They're worrying, to say the least. They had to draw their family and their home and, well, Feliciano did this." The pictures all showed one or two people. The smaller one, he guessed, was supposed to represent Feliciano himself and the larger one his grandfather. They were all very bare, with little colour apart from on the people themselves. "While the pictures themselves are drawn amazingly well. You can read a lot into how a person, particularly a child, draws themself, their family and their home." She stopped, but he felt she still had more to say.

"Go on."

"And these paintings – be careful, they're still wet – they... I don't quite know how to describe them." They _were_ confusing, to say the least. He wasn't quite sure what they were supposed to be, but they almost looked like something that wouldn't be out of place hanging up in some modern art gallery.

"They're..." To his surprise, he couldn't find the right words either. When was the last time _he'd_ been lost for words?

"I know." She smiled briefly, before she sighed and took on a serious demeanour. "I need you to tell me everything you know about this child. You've already told me you 'found him' and now I need to know more, because I know you know more than you're telling me."

"Liz, I..."

"Don't you dare try to say you can't. I'm just thinking of that child's best interests and if I don't know everything I need to then I can't care for him properly while he's here."

"Okay." He glanced around nervously. "But in private."

They moved through to the back room, which doubled as a kitchen. It was tiled up to shoulder-height on the walls, with long cupboards along one wall. There was a sink, cooker and microwave, with a computer and printer on a trolley pushed against the far corner. Liz dragged a chair over and jammed it under the door handle – clichéd, but it worked. They each sat on the remaining chairs, Liz crossing her legs in an oddly ladylike fashion.

"Something Roderich taught you?" Gilbert couldn't help commenting. She looked confused for a moment, before glancing down at herself and smiling ruefully.

"With the things he takes me too, I had to at least learn some manners."

"You shouldn't be letting him change you like this, y'know."

"Gilbert, please." Her brows furrowed, but she didn't raise her head as she spoke. "It's too late now. I can't go back to what I was then, everything's too different." When things had happened between them, they'd been no more than teenagers. They could go out and party all night long, doing stupid things like taking drugs and getting drunk off their head. They'd used to own the dance floor when they'd been there together, arms wrapped around each other, breaths mingling in the air. Whether they'd been high or not, there'd always been just them and the music.

And they'd had the most _amazing_ sex. Whether it was harsh, angry sex after their latest fight, or sweet, tender, loving sex where they cherished every inch of each other's bodies: it was always the best when it had been them and just them. He'd never had an experience the same with another woman and he believed – he hoped – that it had felt the same for Liz.

"Besides," She continued. "That isn't what I brought you in here to talk about." She finally looked up, her green eyes darkened with something that Gilbert couldn't quite place. "Please, tell me everything you know about Feliciano." And he did. For some reason he didn't quite understand, he felt the need to spill everything to the woman. Liz listened with an impassive look on her face, her expression giving nothing about her thoughts away.

"Liz?" He asked, after several moments of silence. He hated silences, loathed them with a passion. Her hand slowly came up to cover her mouth and her eyes closed.

"So what you're saying..." Her voice was shaking and he couldn't blame her. "Is that this boy isn't... human?"

"Yes and no. He's just the same as you and me, but he wasn't born the same way." She suddenly stood, making him jump. "He has emotions, thoughts, feelings. He's human in every way apart from how he was born." She didn't say anything, just stood with her hand over her mouth and eyes closed. "Liz?"

He gasped as his head was turned to the side and there was a sharp stinging sensation in his cheek. It took him a moment to realise he'd been smacked.

"Idiot!" Liz practically screamed. "What the hell do you think...!" She was promptly shushed as Gilbert put his hand over her mouth. She smacked him away and he winced. She had _really_ hard slaps. "You complete and utter idiot!" She hissed "What were you thinking? You took in a boy who is wanted by the police!" She paced, letting out a noise of frustration and knotting her hands in her hair.

"I didn't know that at the time!" He defended. "It wasn't until later when I found out and only earlier today was it pretty much confirmed." She hadn't stopped pacing. "I can't hand him over! Who knows what'll happen to him?"

"He'll get put with a family who can care for him like he should be and..."

"Or he'll get taken and used as a human guinea-pig!"

"They wouldn't do that! Don't be absurd!" She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "No, they..." Liz cut herself off. "Roderich?" Gilbert spun around and Liz stepped discretely back. "What are you doing here?"

There he was, standing straight in his long coat with his hair perfect, casually wiping his glasses with a cloth before placing them delicately on his nose. He took his time before replying and Gilbert had to use all the self restraint he could muster in order to not go over and punch the smug look right off the smarmy, son-of-a-bitch's face.

"You know I don't get off for another hour." Liz sounded vaguely annoyed.

"Yes, but I have other plans." He smiled, sweeping over to her and dipping her into a kiss. "I booked a table for us at the best French restaurant in town."

"Y-You did?" Liz stuttered, and Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"You better move unless you want vomit over you," He commented. Roderich shot him a glare, but Gilbert just put on a smile. "Just saying. You wouldn't want to go out on your date stinking of sick, would you Cuz?" The couple moved apart slightly and he walked through them, heading for the door and without looking back. He walked over to where Toni was playing with a train set with the two boys. The Spaniard saw him and smiled, tapping the boys' shoulders and pointing him out. They both ran over and he bent down to give them a hug. "You have a good day?"

"Uh huh," Ludwig muttered, smiling slightly. Feliciano just nodded vigorously with a wide smile on his face, clearly agreeing with the blonde.

"Let's get you home then?" He stood, taking one small hand in each of his own. He bade his farewells to Antonio, before leaving with the boys.

The noisy pre-school seemed to have done Feliciano some good. He would no longer tense at the traffic, only when there was a sudden or particularly loud noise, and seemed to be okay with walking through the crowded streets. Gilbert kept his hand tightly in his own, ensuring that neither of the boys could be snatched away in the busy streets.

As they stepped inside their house Gilbert led the boys to the living-room, switching the TV onto a kid's channel, before darting upstairs. He pulled an old camping bed down from the loft, unfolded it and placed it beside the bed in Ludwig's room. He laid a mattress on top, covering it with a sheet and grabbing a spare pillow and duvet and setting them on it also. He headed back downstairs and walked through to the kitchen, pulling a tin of ready-made pasta sauce from the cupboard and slinging it into a pan on the hob. He filled a pot with boiling water and, putting a generous amount of salt in, set it to boil. When the pasta was cooked and it all was done and mixed together, he called the boys into the kitchen as he dished it up into three bowls.

They sat at the table as they had the night before, Gilbert in the middle with Ludwig to his right and Feliciano to his left, as they tucked into the pasta. Gilbert noticed that Feli wasn't really eating and was just playing with his food.

"Feli? Aren't you hungry?" He asked, keeping his tone light. The brunette looked up at him and shook his head.

"I don't like it," He said, pulling a face. "It doesn't taste nice." Oh...

"Do you want something else to eat?" He suggested in stead. Feli just shook his head again before yawning.

"I'm tired. Can I go to bed?"

"Sure, just let me finish this first, okay?" Feli nodded and slipped off the chair, padding back through to the lounge. Ludwig raced through the rest of his bowl and soon joined the Italian in the other room. Gilbert finished his own meal not long after and, after tipping the discarded pasta in the bin, walked through to collect the boys and take them upstairs. The site he was met with, however, was so incredibly cute, even _he_ wanted to coo at the sight – but he totally didn't, he was far too awesome for that!

They had both fallen asleep, Feliciano with his head resting on Ludwig's shoulder and Ludwig with his resting on top of Feliciano's. He walked over and gently shook them awake, taking each of the sleepy boys in an arm – God, was Lutz heavy when compared to Feli! – and carried them upstairs. He placed Feliciano on the camping bed and Ludwig in the main one and handed them their pyjamas. They groggily got changed and climbed under the covers, both falling asleep almost immediately. Gilbert left the slumbering boys, leaving the door ajar again, and headed back downstairs.

He jumped as the doorbell rang when he reached the bottom. Taking the few steps to the front door, he opened it, surprised at who was standing outside.

"Move!" They pushed past him and hurried inside, their elegant black dress flowing behind them. "Shut the damn door, please!" They ordered, and he did so. She walked swiftly through to the living-room, her long hair swinging behind her.

"To what do I owe this visit?" He asked, the biting tone in his voice clear as he followed her through. He jumped again as she suddenly tackled him in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, Gil," She sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry!"

"Liz?" He wrapped his arms around her. It had been a long time since he'd last seen her like this. "Liz, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry. I never meant to tell him, but he forced it out of me." She clung tighter to the back of his shirt, her tears starting the soak the shoulder. "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault!"

"Liz." He pushed her backwards, holding her at arm's length so he could see her... and partly so she wouldn't stain his favourite T-shirt. "What did you say?"

"I-I told him about Feliciano." Her hands came up, hiding her face from view, but he tugged them back down again. _This wasn't good_.

"Who... Who did you tell?"

"Roderich!" She tugged her arms free and dropped down, onto the sofa, once again hiding her face in her hands. "He's called the police. I tried to stop him but I... I'm so, _so sorry_."

"Shit..." He muttered, a hand running through his hair and tugging on the strands. "Shit... This isn't happening..." They both jumped as there was a loud thump on the door.

"The police..." Liz muttered, moving to stand beside the taller man.

"Mister Beilschmidt," Someone – a police officer, probably – called through the wood. "Open up."

"You go get the boys," She ordered in a hushed tone, dragging him out into the hallway. "Go out the back door and go somewhere safe."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Whoever's house is closest." She pushed him up the first few stairs. He nodded and darted up the rest, followed by the sound of more knocking. He darted into the bedroom where the two boys were still peacefully sleeping, unaware of what was happening downstairs.

"Ludwig," He said in a hushed voice, gently shaking the blonde and waking him up.

"What is it?" The boy asked, rubbing his bleary eyes.

"Just go downstairs and put your shoes on quickly, okay?" The boy's eyes widened, sensing the atmosphere, as he climbed out of bed and ran out of the room. Gilbert moved over to the other sleeping boy. "Feliciano..." No response. "Feli, come on." He shook him harder. "Wake up." Still nothing. He muttered a curse under his breath as he picked the brunette up, carrying him downstairs.

"Francis' house," He said simply, to the mousy haired brunette. Liz nodded to him as he took Ludwig's hand, pulling him to the back of the house and out the door there. He heard Liz shout something as they shut the door, as well as the crunching of the door being broken open. They walked through the small garden and onto the back streets.

He turned left, knowing the streets like the lines on the back of his hand. Feliciano was only just beginning to wake up and Gilbert, despite their situation, couldn't help but think what a heavy sleeper the Italian was. A few minutes later, they arrived at a familiar house. Gilbert placed the groggy Feliciano on the floor and knocked. After what felt like far too long the Frenchman answered.

"Come in," He said after giving them a momentarily confused look. Francis led them through, seating the boys on the sofa with a blanket covering them, before dragging Gilbert through to the kitchen. "What happened?" He asked.

"The police," Gilbert replied simply, earning him a nod and pained sigh.

"Just try and get some sleep." Francis handed him a blanket he pulled down from the cupboard. "I wouldn't think they'd start enquiries until the morning. I'll call Antonio and get him to not mention anything about Feliciano to them." He sighed again, placing a hand on the albino's shoulder. "Try not to worry, okay? Just call if you need anything."

Gilbert nodded as Francis headed up the stairs. He dropped down on the empty sofa, the other claimed by the two boys, who were both already back asleep. He arranged a cushion against the armrest and lay down, pulling the blanket over himself. He closed his eyes, attempting to drift off to sleep, but was unsurprised when it failed to come. He sighed and prepared himself for another restless night.

* * *

As the three boys disappeared through the back of the house, Liz darted up the stairs, going over her plan in her head. She grabbed a bathrobe off the banister and kicked off her shoes, ruffling her hair up slightly to make it look like they'd got her out of bed. She headed back downstairs, tying the belt, as she heard the door give.

"What the hell's going on?" She shouted as several police officers burst into the house. Gilbert would have to pay out for a new door...

"Where's the boy?" One asked.

"What boy?" She replied, pretending to be confused. "And why are you all breaking into my house?"

"Why didn't you answer the door, ma'am?" Another asked, not responding to her own questions.

"Because I was just sleeping. Now tell me what's going on."

"We're looking for Gilbert Beilschmidt and a young boy, Feliciano Vargas. You wouldn't happen to know who either of these people are, would you?" She shook her head, glancing around at the officers wandering through the house.

"No, I've never heard of them." One of the officers pushed past her and headed upstairs, quickly followed by another. She was ignored for a while until one of the officers returned with a photo in a frame.

"Sir, the man in this," He said, holding out the photograph to another officer. "He was the one that attacked me at the station earlier today."

"After that liaison with Vargas?" The officer asked. He wasn't particularly intimidating – hell, she was taller than he was! – however, he seemed to exude some odd sort of presence that the other officers searching throughout the house didn't have. His straight blonde hair fell to just below his chin as his green eyes scrutinised the photo in his hand. He must have been the one in charge, she decided.

"Yes, Sir." The man nodded.

"Isn't this you in this photo, Miss...?" The man in charge asked.

"Hérdavéry." Damn, why did she say her real name.

"Miss Hérdavéry." She saw him smirk. "Unusual name, where's it from?"

"It's Hungarian," She replied, not wanting to tell him more than she had to.

"I see. I guess that would explain the accent lingering on your tongue." She self-consciously brought her hand to her mouth. _Jackass_, she thought angrily. Not like he could talk, he had an odd accent that sounded like a cross between German and French. "Anyway, back on topic, isn't this you in this picture?" He turned the photo around to face her and, sure enough, it was a photo of her and Gilbert from when they'd been younger.

"That person sure looks like me, don't they?" She said, forcing a smile.

The officer huffed. "So you've never met this person before?"

"I think I would remember if I had." She forced a laugh. "It's not every day you meet an albino, is it?"

"Why was it in 'your' house then?"

She shrugged. "I've no idea." The man's bright green eyes studied her for a moment.

"You're a very skilled actress, Miss Hérdavéry," He commented, handing the photo to a passing officer, the original one having already disappeared. "You should try going into show-business." He turned to the officer he'd just handed the photo to. "Take this and show it to Mister Edelstein. He'll be able to confirm if it's Beilschmidt or not." Elizaveta forced herself to show any emotion at her newly fiancé's name. He'd proposed to her when he'd taken her out to dinner and now look what had happened? "Also, ask him if he recognises her too."

The officer glanced at her briefly, before he nodded and headed outside, the photo in hand. Another blonde officer came downstairs, reporting that there were two bedrooms with three beds – one a put-up camping type.

"Interesting," The head-officer mused. "Have you checked the wardrobes, Køhler?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Did you see any female clothes." This man was annoying, goddammit.

"No, sir. Apart from a pair of shoes on the landing, there were no signs of any females living in the house."

"How very peculiar, considering you said this was _your_ house, Miss Hérdavéry." He stepped to the side. "Could you go and get those shoes – I can't help noticing the absence of them on this lady here – I would like to speak to Miss Hérdavéry back at the station." The officer darted up the stairs and returned moments later with her shoes. They were the black heels she'd worn to dinner. In fact, she was still wearing her best dress.

Oh well. If she was getting arrested at least she was damn well doing it in style.

She bent down, doing up the straps, before dropping the bathrobe and following the officer outside. She avoided Roderich's gaze as he caught sight of her, pointedly focusing on the short blonde walking in front of her, who she towered over now she was in her three-inch heels. She sat in the back of the police car as the man walked around and climbed into the front. He pulled out a receiver for the radio.

"Station," He said into the little black object. "This is Sergeant Zwingli." That name sounded familiar to Liz, but she couldn't place it. "I have a female here who is a suspected associate of Beilschmidt. She seems to be likely to know his whereabouts and may be harbouring the fugitive."

"_Okay, Sergeant_." A staticy voice replied after a few seconds of silence. "_Bring her in. We'll prepare a questioning room_." She sighed and fastened he seatbelt, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. She toyed with the new, gleaming ring on her finger, before pulling it off and tucking it into her bra. She could allow herself to be pissed at Roderich for a while. He'd better not come and collect her in the morning, she thought bitchily. No doubt this was not how he'd expected the night to go...

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**Ta-dah! And Switzy makes his first appearance, as well as a Denmark cameo. _Gutters_ made me love Denmark and Sealand so much more than before. Seriously, go read it. It is an amazing fanfic!**

**Liz is being really badass in this - if I'm getting arrested I'm doing it in style. H****ell yeah!**

**Anyways, am I gonna get more than one review this chapter?**


	6. Chapter 05

**Hello again!**

**Yes, this is Holderoftheheart. I've decided to change my name - it was getting a bit old and was inspired by something I'm no longer a fan of.**

**I don't really have much to say this time. Just that this is the longest chapter yet - very nearly 4.5k words! This is over a thousand words longer than Chapter 3 (which is the shortest chapter in Part 1).**

**I've been working on the Intermediary chapter this week. I opened it, just to check, before realising I only had about 600 words of it... oops...**

**Here's a disclaimer, since I haven't done one in a while.**

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**Okay, now that's done, enjoy~!**

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He rolled over, _really_ not wanting to wake up. He liked his dreams, they were sweet and nice.

A hell of a lot better than real life.

"Francis! Francis!" He heard a familiar voice calling his name. It sounded urgent, but he couldn't force his eyes open. His shoulder was shook and the covers were tugged down. "Francis!" The voice whined.

"Dix minute, Michelle..."

"But Uncle Gilbert is in the kitchen!" He bolted up straight, the small girl falling off the edge of the bed in shock.

"Ah, Michelle!" He bent down, picking her up. "Je suis désolée. Ca va?"

"Bon!" She jumped up, smiling, before darting out of the room, her long, dark hair trailing behind her. Francis sat back on the bed, rubbing his eyes, then he remembered why he'd got up.

"Gilbert's in the kitchen..." He muttered sleepily, rubbing the untidy morning fuzz on his chin as he yawned. Then his memory reminded him of the night before. "Gilbert's in the kitchen!" He stood, walking quickly out into the hall and down the stairs to the afore mentioned room. Sure enough, the Albino was cooking in the kitchen. "Gilbert, mon ami..." Francis began in a shaky voice, taking the pan from his friend. "Let me do that. This is my house." Uncharacteristically, Gilbert just shrugged and strolled over to the dining table, taking one of the seats.

"Whatever." The albino leant forwards, resting his head on the table. Francis turned to the stove, turning off the hob before heading over to where Gilbert was slumped over the table, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It'll get better," He said, trying to be sympathetic. Gilbert just let out a bitter bark of a laugh.

"How has all of this happened?" He whispered. "Two days ago... I mean, things weren't perfect, if they were then... But they were okay. Lutz, he was happy and my job – shit, my job!" He shot up, before slumping forward again. "I'm on rota today!" He paused, sighing. "Then that little bastard had to show up and wreck everything. It's all his damn fault." Francis could tell anger in his words was false. Gilbert didn't really blame Feliciano, he was just looking for someone to lump it on. "Sometimes..." But it seemed he wasn't quite finished yet. "Sometimes I just wish I'd left him in that alley to rot and..." He was cut off by a small sob. Both men looked up, staring at what they saw.

Feliciano was standing in the doorway, tears flowing down his face.

"Feli, wait I..." But Gilbert didn't get to say anymore before the child turned and bolted from the room. Gilbert jumped to his feet and chased after him, almost skidding into the wall with his socks on the tiled floor. "Feli, stop!" Francis jumped as the doorbell rang. Why now, of all times? He walked to the door, past a confused looking Ludwig, and opened it with more force than what was really necessary. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – it was a familiar face at the door.

"Arthur, what a pleasant surprise," He chirped, forcing a smile. The teen rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," He snarked. "I don't have to be in until later today, I was wondering if you'd like me to drop Michelle off at Pre-school for you to..." He was cut off as a little brown-haired bundle pushed past him and ran out onto the street. "Who's that?" He asked

"That would be Feliciano," Francis began. "Gilbert has..."

"MOVE!" Francis found himself pushed to the side, his grabbing onto the doorframe the only thing preventing him from sprawling ungainly on the floor. As he stood back up, he saw Gilbert darting through the gate at the bottom of the garden and sprinting down the street.

"Stop staring at your boyfriend and get me the hell out of here!" A voice below him yelled. He looked down and suppressed a laugh at the sight greeting his eyes.

"Oh, Arthur!" The teen had been pushed to the side as he had, but instead of his lucky grab, Arthur had fallen back, tripped over the ornamental fence and landed in among his rose bushes.

"Take a sodding picture, why don't you?" He snapped, a venomous light flashing in his green eyes. "Help me, you bloody twat!"

"Okay, okay. Keep your knickers on." Francis held his hand out and pulled the younger blonde to his feet, receiving the sound of various obscenities that should never have ever seen the light of day. He kept a hold on the teen's wrist and pulled him inside, leading him through to the living-room. Arthur sat down before darting upright again, clutching his backside. Francis only just managed to cover Ludwig's ears before another string of curse words flowed from the other's mouth.

He'd really need to talk to Arthur about that sometime...

He walked through to the kitchen, dragging Ludwig with him. Michelle was sitting patiently on the bottom step, probably having had enough entertainment for one morning. He reached up to the top cupboards, pulling down a box. He opened it, pulling out the tool he'd been looking for with a sadistic smirk.

Oh, this would be fun!

Turning back around, he noticed Ludwig had taken a seat at the table, Michelle now moved to sit beside him. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, however they stopped and looked up at him as he approached.

"Okay," He began. "No matter what you hear, neither of you can move from this room, understand?" The two children shared a look before nodding. "Good." With that, he turned around and walked back into the living-room. Arthur looked at him warily.

"What's that look for?"

"Strip," He ordered simply.

"Wh-What!?"

"You heard me, strip." He stepped forwards, grabbing one of the younger man's hands in one of his own and brandishing the metal object he had taken earlier in the other. "We need to get those rose thorns out of you somehow."

"No!" Arthur tried to tug his hand from Francis' hold, but it was too tight.

"Yes..."

"No! No way in hell am I feeding your perverted mind and stripping in front of you!"

"Aww... Is little Artie getting all embarrassed?" Arthur turned a bright shade of red his eyes going wide as, yes, he was becoming very embarrassed.

Without warning, Francis spun him around, pushing him face-first onto the sofa. Arthur let out very undignified squeaking sound as Francis pinned him to the cushions.

"Get your filthy perverted hands off of me, you fucking Frog!" He exclaimed, trying wriggle free as Francis held him down with one hand and tugged at his trousers with the other, a wide smile on his face the entire time.

Oh, yes. This was definitely fun!

As Gilbert dashed down the road after the escaping brunette, he cursed the boy's unnatural speed. No three year-old should be able to run that fast! As he finally caught up with the fleeing boy, he scooped him up, earning himself several painful kicks from the still pedalling legs.

"Let go!" Feliciano screamed, earning them some odd looks from passers-by. "Let me go!" He spun the boy around and pulled him against his chest. He could feel the small fists banging against his chest start to fall away as sobs shook the slender boy's frame. He felt a pair of thin arms wrap around him as Feliciano sobbed into his shoulder. He gently rocked the boy until his sobs had subsided, when he pushed him back slightly so he could look into his eyes. The honey-coloured orbs trained on the floor as silent tears still fell.

"Feliciano," He said gently, but the Italian's eyes remained looking down. "Feli," He repeated. "Look at me." The boy's eyes slowly trailed up until they were locked on his own, the sad look in them almost breaking Gilbert's heart. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it." Feliciano sniffed, swiping at his tears with his hands. He pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead, pulling him back into a hug. He felt the boys arms wrap around his neck and smiled, thank god that Feliciano was forgiving.

"Mister Beilschmidt." Why was there always something to ruin the perfect moment? Gilbert looked up, his breath catching at the sight of a police officer as he forced himself to remain calm. He heard footsteps behind him and, turning his head, saw another officer approaching from behind.

"You're going to have to come with us," The other officer added. Gilbert stood, picking Feliciano up with him, and faced the two officers, standing as straight as he could with a child in his arms.

"Why?"

"You're believed to have been harbouring a fugitive." The officer glanced at Feliciano. "Please put the child down and come with us. If you resist, we will not hesitate to formally arrest you on charges of assaulting an officer of the law."

Hesitantly he placed Feliciano on the ground. A female officer who he hadn't noticed before took the boy to the side as he became fully aware of the crowd off officers and observers that surrounded him.

"We're going to search you," One officer declared. "Please state now if you have any sharp or illegal objects on your person." He shook his head and the man patted him down, fishing through his pockets and pulling out pieces of old fluff and...Oh, shit. A photograph.

_The _photograph.

The one of Feliciano and his Grandfather.

The man took one glance at it and one at Feliciano before stepping away and handing it to a short blonde guy in the crowd. He said something he couldn't hear, but Gilbert still got a horrible sense of foreboding. The blonde man nodded, turning to the woman beside Feliciano.

"Put him in the second car. We have reason to believe he's the missing piece of evidence." She blinked, before moving so she was holding him at arm-length – bitch! As a second car pulled up, she tugged him towards it.

"Gilbert!" Feliciano managed to cry out, before he was shoved in, the door was shut and the car pulled away. He followed the car with his eyes until it turned a corner and left his sight. Handcuffs were locked onto his wrists as he was shoved into the back of the police-car, two officers climbing in the front seats.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt," The one in the passenger seat droned as they pulled away from the curb. "You are under arrest for assaulting a police officer, resisting arrest and harbouring a fugitive..." The officer gave the usual spiel as they drove down the road. He sat back in the chair, fiddling with the cuffs that had been put on poorly. That officer should be sacked; anyone with enough experience (i.e. anyone like him) could move them around easily and, if not escape from them entirely, at least get to a position which it would be easy to flee in.

After a while, the car rolled to a stop and the door he was leaning against was yanked open, he himself nearly toppling out onto the pavement. He was pulled out and led inside, being let free only to have his fingerprints done and his photo taken, before being taken to a cell and left. He sat, letting time pass for a while, before walking up and banging on the door to his cell.

"Hey!" He called, trying to get someone's attention. He banged on the door as he called out again.

"What is it?" They asked gruffly, opening a panel and looking in.

"I'm ready to make a phone call." He put on a smile. The door opened and he stepped out, being escorted to the phone, before they backed away, giving him some privacy. He dialled the number and someone quickly picked up.

"_Hello?_" The voice on the end said. Well, that wasn't who he had expected...

"Arthur?" He didn't normally speak to the teen over the phone, so he just had to make sure, and...

"_Oh, great. It's you_." The sarcasm and tone to his voice made it very clear how pleased he was to hear from him. "_You have five seconds to convince me not to hang up on you: Five_..."

"Wait!" Shit, this wasn't good. And knowing Arthur, he wasn't kidding about the hanging up.

"..._Four_..."

"Don't hang up!" He exclaimed. "I won't get another call!"

"_You need to do better than that. Three seconds..._" Fuck it all!

"I've been arrested!"

"_Tw..._"A pause. "_Wait, what?_"

"I'm not saying it again."

"_Two..._" Fucking hell! The brat was really getting on his nerves now!

"I've been arrested and this is my only call!" Nothing from the other side – at least he'd stopped counting. "Can you please put Fran...No. Actually, can you put Ludwig on."

There was silence on the other end and Gilbert wasn't sure Arthur would oblige until he heard him speak again. "_Sure. Just give me a minute._" There was a noise as Arthur presumably placed the handset down and went to get his brother. A minute or so later, a child's voice spoke from the other end of the phone.

"_Gilbert?_"

"Ludwig!" God, why the hell did he feel like he wanted to cry?

"_Where are you? You and Felisha...Felisha...Fe-li-ci-a-no just left and you didn't even say goodbye._"

"I'm sorry." He replied, leaning against the wall. "I didn't get the chance, I'm sorry." He sighed. "You're gonna have to stay with Francis for a bit."

"_Why?_"

"I...I don't think I'll be coming home for a while, okay?"

"_Why not?_"

"Because I'm somewhere I'm not allowed to leave."

"_Tell them I said you could!_"

He chuckled. "I don't think that's going to work, Little Man." He heard a sniff, his mirth at the innocent comment immediately vanishing. "Are you crying?" More sniffing. "Ludwig?"

"_Please, come home. You're my big brother! I just want you to come home_." He heard a small sob. Ludwig was crying.

"Ludwig..." He heard a thunk – the boy must have dropped the phone. Muffled sobs and an undistinguishable voice floated down the line. He couldn't tell if it was Francis or Arthur comforting the clearly distraught boy. He blinked furiously as he felt tears building up in his eyes – this was not the right time, nor the place to be crying.

"_Gilbert?_" He almost jumped at the sound of another voice on the line.

"Francis?"

"_What happened?_"

"I... I've been arrested..." There was an uncomfortable pause.

"_Feliciano?_"

"Something like that, yeah." Another pause and the officer whistled. He glanced over his shoulder to see him tapping his watch. "Look after Ludwig, yeah?" He said quickly.

"_I will_."

"I have to go. Just..." Just what? "Just take care of him, please." Before Francis could reply, he hung-up.

"Ready to go back?" One of the officers asked.

"Just gimme a minute." He rested his head against the wall, taking deep breaths.

It had been nearly two years since he and Ludwig's parents had died in a car-crash and they'd been orphaned. He hadn't had any trouble with the police since then. But he'd never felt this feeling when he'd been arrested before. He'd be the first to admit he didn't have the best teenage years, but he thought he'd more than made up for it now.

"Actually, I have a better idea." Gilbert's ears perked up at the familiar voice. Now that was someone he hadn't heard from in a while. "A questioning room just opened up, I was wondering if our dear Beilschmidt here would like to fill in?"

"Officer Zwingli," He said spinning around. "What are the chances?" He could see a small smile on the older officer's face.

"Very high, I would say, since I work here and all." The small blonde walked over, taking him by the arm. "Oh, by the way, it's _Sergeant_ Zwingli now." Gilbert mock saluted.

"Yes, Sir. I'll be sure to remember that, Sir."

"Don't push it." When he'd been a regular at the station, Vash Zwingli had been the one assigned to him many of the times he'd been brought to the station and, if he hadn't been there right off the bat, then it was quickly sorted. Generally, either by Zwingli finding out and 'relieving the office of his duties' or by he himself throwing such a fit that the officers finally gave in and gave him what he wanted. It was an odd relationship they'd built; not quite friendship, but more than acquaintances. Vash had even gotten to know his parents quite well, since he'd had to visit them a lot. A lot, a lot.

And now, it seemed, the officer's work had paid off. Zwingli had been promoted to sergeant sometime in the years he'd managed to keep his neck out of trouble. He'd learnt over the rebellious years of his how far he could push the small man before he sprung back and bit his head off. He'd made many mistakes originally and they'd had a pretty much hate-hate relationship, but after all the repeat visits and the way they slowly began to learn about each other eventually changed that. He remembered the chats they'd have when waiting for a solicitor or his parents to arrive and he really hoped that the guy was still up for keeping up the light atmosphere. Hopefully.

If he kept on his good side, anyway.

"In here." Zwingli opened a door, directing him in. He really didn't remember the blonde guy being quite so short, though. Maybe he'd just grown. "Take a seat." Gilbert did so, glancing around the interrogation room. It hadn't changed much, but really they never do. They all looked the same to him. Still the same steel table, same steel chairs, blank walls, stuffy smell, small windowed room with the same camera in the corner. He resisted the urge to wave at it, cringing at when he had thought it had been so cool to do so.

Zwingli sat opposite him, shooing the other officers out by telling them to go call a solicitor, and set out the recording equipment before leaning back in his chair casually. The red light showed he hadn't started the recording yet – it'd change to green when he did switch it on.

"Well, Beilschmidt," Zwingli began. He paused smirking. "I thought I'd finally gotten rid of you, but then you have to go and get yourself wrapped up in some more shit don't you?"

"What can I say? I missed you," Gilbert replied, smiling. "I had to come back to see you after so long." Zwingli laughed.

"You could just pop by, you didn't have to go out and get full blown arrested."

Gilbert shrugged. "But I bet this way made more of an impact." Another laugh.

"That you did." He paused, an oddly thoughtful look crossing his face. "How's your brother getting along?" So they were on the small-talk now?

"He's good. He's actually getting quite big." He scratched the back of his neck. "He's definitely growing out of his clothes far too quick for my wallet's liking." Zwingli laughed again.

"He's...What? Three nome? Four?"

"Four.""Yes, that makes sense. He goes to the same playschool as Lili, dosen't he?"

"Yeah. The one Liz runs." Another nod, before his expression

"Speaking, of 'Liz'," Oh, shit. Had he said something wrong already? "Off the record, what's the relationship with her?" Now, how to answer this... He knew the good sergeant didn't mean to probe, but this was just one topic he was never comfortable talking about. Ever. To anyone.

"She's in charge of the playgroup that my little brother goes to. What else would there be?" It was a pathetic lie, and, if the raised eyebrow was any indication, the blonde didn't either.

"There are two reasons I don't believe that: one, you call her 'Liz' which denotes familiarity – something I'd try and avoid when the tape turns on, just saying – and two, she was at your house last night." The corner of his lip twitched as he suppressed a smile. "Dressed very fancifully at that."

"She was?" His mind drifted back to last night. He'd been in too much of a hurry at the time to really process what she'd been wearing, but now he thought about it, he remembered her in a lacy, black dress. Definitely not something that you just chuck on – then again she had been going to dinner with that bastard, Roderich.

"Yes." Zwingli smiled, leaning back in his chair again. "We had to get her to change. She was distracting some of the staff." That made Gilbert smile too. "She's a very beautiful woman, you know?"

"I know..." Shit! Too soppy! "She has a great body and that." And that was a terrible recovery. Well done, Gilbert, you completely ballsed that up.

"You don't have to tell me now, but it'd make the whole thing a hell of a lot easier." He leant forwards again steepling his hands on the table. "This is all off the record. These walls are soundproof and the recording equipment is off. Anything you tell me now will stay with me unless it is vital is revealed or you spit it out again yourself."

"She...I...We..." He awkwardly scratched his cheek. "We used to go out. Back in school." Zwingli nodded smiling.

"That was all I needed to know." His hand moved to rest on top of the recorder. "Shall we get the formal interview started, then?" He asked.

"Not until my solicitor arrives."

Liz tapped her fingers on the table, impatiently waiting for whoever it was that had pulled her out of her peaceful cell. She tugged on the baggy grey sweat-suit that they'd given her in place of her, admittedly revealing, black dress. She tucked her hair behind her ears, hoping her visitor wasn't...

"Elizaveta." Goddammit, could that guy see her thoughts or something? Actually, scratch that, he evidently couldn't, because if he could then he would know just how pissed she was at him and would definitely stay away. "You've been stupid, I see that." Oh, _she'd_ been stupid? "But I'm willing to forgive you." What the hell for? "I know you still have some sort of emotional attachment to Gilbert." Jerk. "But I'm willing to overlook it all, just as long as you tell the officers the truth." Fucking jerk. "If you do, they've said they'll let you off with a fine which I'll pay for you." Fucking asslicking jerk. "Elizaveta, answer me please."

"Fucking asslicking jerk."

"P-pardon?"

"You heard me. You were never happy with me, were you? You were always trying to make me into this perfect, prim and proper lady. If we get married, you'll want me to attend fancy tea parties with the other wives of your associates. You'll want me to wear dresses and quit my job to be an obedient housewife. Well, fuck that." She took the ring out of its hiding place and threw it at the man. "Fuck your ring too!"

"That was my grandmother's ring!" She heard Roderich exclaim as he bent down and scooped the expensive piece of jewellery off the floor. "It's priceless! An antique! You can't just throw it around willy-nilly."

"It's a ring."

"And an expensive one at that."

She scoffed. "So here I am locked up in jail for something that's your fault and you're fussing over a ring? Glad you've got your priorities straight."

"Oh, stop being such a child." He sighed and she had to physically hold her arm down to prevent it from connecting with his face. "And don't try to shift the blame onto me. You were the one who went running into the house to protect your ex. I tried to stop you from doing so."

"But _you_ still called the police. _You_ still identified him. _You_ still sold out the man who is not only my ex, but your cousin. Your _family_."

"That...delinquent was never my family." She could see the Austrian was beginning to lose his composure. "Not since he decided that a good night out would be trashing someone's store. That is not the sort of person I consider family."

"But he's fun!" Was she actually defending Gilbert? "He's spontaneous. He's passionate." Oh, God, she was! She stopped herself. Was Roderich right? Did she still have feelings for her school fling? That was all it was, right? A fling. They'd had fun, but there had been no real emotional attachment.

And why did that not sound as convincing as it should?

"I knew it." She was brought back as Roderich resumed talking, the confident air around him rebuilt. "You do still have feelings for him, don't you?"

"No, of course not!" She bit back. "Don't be absurd."

"Oh, really? Then why were you defending him?" Oh, what she would give to be able to wipe that smug smile off of his face..."And there I was thinking that you could actually be someone..."

"What?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"But you always give into your base instincts, don't you." She couldn't do anything but stare. Was she really hearing that right? "You go for the person who shows off the most, who can give you a good night." A wry smile grew on his face. "The type of person who's great for a good fuck." Di-Did Roderich actually just say that? "I can provide with whatever you want. The latest fashion – done. A diamond ring – done. A villa in Spain – done. You would never be wanting, so why...?"

She smiled sadly. "Because of what I said earlier. He's fun, spontaneous, passionate...All the things you aren't." She laughed, but it sounded hollow. "When every girl is little, they dream of having a prince come and carry them off into the sunset..." She paused, chuckling to herself. "Hell, I don't know where I'm going with that, but what I'm trying to say is that they don't want riches and royalties, they want someone who is fun, great for a laugh, will do something because he can, not because he's obligated to or because he thinks it's the socially appropriate thing to do."

"You're rambling."

"I know I am!" She sighed, slumping back in her seat. "What are we going to do?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know, my dear. I really don't." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses, before standing and straightening his jacket. "I think I shall take my leave."

"I think that would be a good idea." With that Roderich nodded and walked over to the guard, being escorted out, before she was taken back to her cell.

It wasn't until she was in the privacy of the four white walls that she let the tears start to flow and allowed herself to cry more than she had for years.

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**Was it just me or was Arthur being really bitchy in this chapter?**

**And there's another sappy Big Brother!Gilbert moment for you.**

**I might get the next chapter up sooner, considering that I'm on holiday for a week... But I probably won't.**

**See you next time!**

**~Ayanhart**


	7. Chapter 06

**I'm back!**

**You know what I said about maybe getting two chapters up over Half Term? I think I must have jinxed myself. I thought this chapter would be like the others, just a bit of editing here and there, but _nooo!_ I had to heavily edit most of it and then completely rewrite the bit with Francis and Arthur. Plus having a ton of coursework being dumped on me really didn't help matters at all -.-***

**Okay... rant over now.**

**Just a bit of a warning, the M rated stuff kicks in next chapter, so the rating is gonna move up from a T.**

**Please don't hate me for what I'm doing/am going to do to Feli...**

* * *

He wasn't sure what was happening. The moving thing he'd been put in had stopped and he'd been carried into the large building. Now he was in a dark room, with only a table and chair that were much too big for him. Bigger than the ones at Gilbert's house.

He hugged his legs tighter, pressing his face into his knees and pressing himself further into the corner of the room he'd wedged himself into. He wished Gilbert would come in, smiling like he normally did. He wished Nonno would come and get him.

He missed his Nonno.

He liked Gilbert, but it wasn't the same. He wasn't Nonno.

He jumped as the door unlocked and opened, looking up at the man who came in – brown hair, green eyes. He placed a tray on the table, before leaving again. The bolt fell back into place and there were faint footsteps went down the corridor.

He stood and stumbled over, standing on his toes to peer over the edge of the tall table. It reached above his head. His nose caught the smell of food and he felt his mouth begin to water. He'd been hungry for a while, but had been too scared to ask for any food. He couldn't reach the button to on the wall anyway – he'd tried.

He stretched one arm across the table, trying to reach the tray that had been placed in the middle. Unable to reach, he stretched further, the edge of the table digging in uncomfortably to the underside of his arm. He let out a small sob as his fingers still fell short. He pulled back and walked around the table, trying again at a different angle. He felt himself begin to cry as, no matter what he did, he couldn't reach the tray on the table.

He clutched his stomach as it growled at him.

He was _so_ hungry.

He stumbled back around to the original side of the table, having had an idea. He pulled on the chair that was tucked under the table, smiling slightly when it shifted. He pulled on the heavy lump of wood and metal, inching it out bit by bit. When it was out far enough, he moved to stand alongside it, staring up and judging its height. He put his hands in the seat of the chair, pushing with his arms as he jumped in order to get leverage to hoist himself up. He hooked his hands over the other side of the chair and pulled, finally able to a knee over the edge and clamber up onto the seat.

He stood unsteadily on the chair, climbing the much shorter distance onto the table-top. He crawled across to the tray in the centre, picking up the spoon and taking a few quick mouthfuls.

He coughed and dropped the utensil, his hand covering his mouth as he fought not to be sick.

It tasted horrible – and not cheap pasta, horrible. The worst thing you've ever tasted in the whole world terrible.

He really didn't want to eat it, but he had to – he was so hungry, hungrier than he'd ever been before. He forced himself to take another bite, but he began to retch right after. The taste and runny consistency making his stomach reject the substance.

He hid his face in his hands and sobbed, wanting to be anywhere other than there.

This wasn't fair. What did he do wrong? He hadn't been bad, had he?

What did do that was so bad to deserve this?

"Nonno..."

"How is our little project?" A platinum-haired man asked, walking up to the two sitting in front of the computer screens, his violet-tinted eyes glancing over the various monitors. The pair looked at each other nervously, before turning to face the man in charge.

"Well, he's..." The blonde one began, adjusting his glasses nervously.

"...He's distressed." The brunette finished, resisting the urge to shudder as the tall man let his intense gaze fall on him. He idly fiddled with the tips of his mousy hair, his gaze moving away from the man towering over him and back to the screens. Anything to distract him...

"It would be." He leant forwards, his eyes narrowing as he focused on something on one of the screens. "Is that it?" He pointed at one of the screens.

"Yes," The one with the glasses replied, spinning back around to face the screens. "That's the boy."

"It's not a boy." The voice behind them said sternly, the sudden change alarming both men as they shared a worried look.

The tall man paused, looking at the three top screens that showed different people. "And they are?"

"Uhh..." The brunette turned back to the monitors, picking up the folders on his desk and handing them to the standing man. "They're Romulus Vargas – That's the elderly man. He was..."

"I already know about him, move on."

"Okay, uh... The female is Elizaveta Héderváry. She was the room leader at the Pre-school the boy was taken to for a day, but she is presumed to have some past connection with the other man, Gilbert Beilschmidt. He's the one who took the boy in off of the street."

"Well done, Toris," The tall man praised, smiling and patting the brunette's head heavily. He took the folders from Toris' hands, before turning and walking out. He paused in the doorway, turning back slightly. "I'll read these and give them back to you later, okay?"

"Yes, Sir." Toris ignored the smirk that was growing on his colleague's face, the blonde still having his back to their boss.

"Good." With that last word, the tall man shut the door.

It had barely closed before the blonde with the glasses started laughing.

"Shut up!" Toris exclaimed, throwing a rubber at his colleague and friend. "What's so funny, Eduard?"

"_He likes you_," The blonde teased, sounding very much like a child and earning another rubber thrown his way.

"Don't be ridiculous! You're imagining it. Besides he's not..."

"Gay?" Eduard finished for him.

"Yeah."

"How do you know...Aren't you?" Eduard grabbed a folder off of the desk, shielding himself from the barrage of pens, pencils, rubbers and anything else that Toris could easily throw coming straight at him.

"You know I'm not!" Toris exclaimed once he'd run out of make- shift missiles.

"Oh, really? What about Feliks?"

"That..." The brunette sighed. "That is a different story. He is as camp as you can be without actually being gay... At least, if he is, he's never told me." He took a sip of the cheap coffee in a polystyrene cup in front of him, wincing slightly. "And I know what you're suggesting, and all I have to say to that is 'get your mind out of the gutter'."

"Damn," The blonde muttered, sighing in mock exasperation. "And there was me thinking you two were genuine butt-buddies..." Toris had to cover his mouth to prevent the documents and files in front of him being sprayed with the crappy coffee. Once he'd finished coughing his lungs up, he turned to his – now debatably titled – friend.

"You have got to be kidding me," He rasped, tucking his hair behind his ear to keep it out of his face. "Please tell me you're not serious." Eduard ignored him. "Eduard?"

"Shhh, we must work." The blonde said without looking up and with a completely serious face. Toris glared at him for a moment more, before turning back to the screens in front of him.

"Jackass..." He muttered, seeing Eduard smile out of the corner of his eye. He looked down at the file in front of him, reaching out to grab his...

Pen...

Oh, shoot...

"Uh, Eduard, can I...?"

"One step ahead of you." The blonde held out one of the pens, smirking widely.

"Thanks..."

Francis sighed and walked back through to the kitchen, picking a pack of biscuits from the cupboard before heading back into the living-room. He crouched in front of the young blonde sitting on the sofa, taking his tear-stained face in his hands.

"Have a biscuit, Ludwig." But the little blonde boy just shook his head.

"I just want Gilbert to come home," The boy muttered, head drooping. Francis placed a hand under his chin, lifting the boy's head back up. He looked into the blue, watery eyes.

"Your brother's not going to be happy if you're hungry, is he?" Ludwig hesitated before slowly shaking his head. "So why don't you have a biscuit?" He held out the packet and Ludwig took one of the chocolate-coated biscuits. He ate it slowly, before reaching to take another. Francis smiled and handed him the packet, the boy curling up with the teddy he'd brought down from Michelle's room. The Frenchman smiled and left the room, heading into the guest-room next door where the other temporary residents of the house were.

Arthur was sitting on the floor, playing a game with Michelle, Alfred and Matthew – who Arthur had brought over once he'd been relieved of the painful rose thorns – while Ralph sat on the sofa, flicking through the TV channels.

"How's Ludwig?" The teen asked.

"He's upset." Arthur rolled his eyes at the response.

"Tell me something I couldn't guess," He snarked. "Gilbert's an idiot, getting himself arrested." Francis resisted the urge to say it wasn't the albino's fault, but Gilbert hadn't wanted his to tell what he knew, so he wouldn't.

Arthur stood, leaving the three children to play the game by themselves and moved to stand beside the Frenchman. Francis smirked and shuffled closer, earning himself a suspicious look. Arthur yelped as he received a firm smack on his still tender backside. "You son of a..." He cut himself off as he realised there were children in the room, instead resorting to glare at the chuckling Frenchman.

"Hey, Arthur." They both looked at the owner of the voice; Ralph, who was picking at the plaster on his nose. "Look at the TV." Arthur gently sat down beside his brother, smacking away the hand picking at the bandage. It was the news; they were reporting about some elderly guy, but in the corner was a picture of... "Isn't that...?" He noticed the way Francis' eyes widened. He reached for the remote and turned up the volume, so they could hear what the newsreader was saying.

"..._who took in the boy after he went missing has been apprehended by the local authorities, however no more has been released. All we know is his name is Gilbert Beilschmidt..."_ A photo of him appeared on-screen. "_Aged twenty years, who is a guardian over his younger brother – whose name and appearance we can't reveal for security reasons." _The screen changed back to the newsreader. "_We also know of the existence of a female counterpart..._" The screen changed again to show a photo of Gilbert and a brunette...

"Mon dieu..." Francis muttered. "Elizaveta."

"_We're not entirely sure how this female is involved, or even what her name is, but she has been apprehended and the police are currently trying to find..._"

"Gilbert?" They turned to face the owner of the voice, the boy who was standing in the doorway. Ludwig. "Gilbert..." He started to cry and Francis darted to him, pulling the distraught boy into a tight hug and Ludwig sobbed into his chest. Alfred stood and tottered over, taking one of Ludwig's hands in his own and tugging gently.

"Come play with us," He said, tugging gently again. Francis let the boy go and he followed Alfred over to the game they were playing. Arthur switched the TV off and ushered Ralph out of the room, grabbing Francis by the collar and dragging him after, shutting the door when they were outside.

"Go into the main room and watch the TV there," Arthur told Ralph, who, sensing the tense atmosphere between the older males, nodded, running a hand through his messy, brown hair and walked off. Arthur rounded on Francis. "What do you know?"

"I don't know what you're talking about..." Francis argued.

"Bollocks!" Arthur exclaimed. "You know exactly what I mean. You weren't even surprised when you found out about Gilbert being involved with that clone thing, but as soon as Elizaveta's name – or should I say picture – popped up, you were all 'Mon dieu'." He said the last two words in a mock French accent.

"I just..."

"There's no 'just' about it. You knew Gilbert was involved from the get-go didn't you?" Francis was about to reply, but was cut off by a knock at the door.

"I should go get that," He said, smiling.

"H-Hey!" Francis ignored the teen, going to the door and opening it. He froze when he saw a pair of policemen outside his door.

"Francis Bonnefoy?" One asked.

"Y-yes?"

"You are suspected to be involved with assisting Gilbert Beilschmidt in his crimes. You can come with us easily now or we can formally arrest you." No...Please, no...

"Francis?" He heard Arthur mutter. He turned back to face the teen. "You're not really getting arrested, are you?" Arthur's bright green eyes were wide as he stared at the policemen.

"Look after the kids okay?" Francis replied as he was spun around and handcuffed.

"Wait!" Arthur bolted to the door, grabbing the Frenchman's arm. "No! You can't be getting arrested!" Francis chewed his lip nervously. He hadn't seen Arthur this worked up in a while.

"Sir, please back away," One of the officers ordered, but Arthur kept clinging to Francis' sleeve.

"I can't look after them all on my own! Oh, God, no!" Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, dipping his head as he felt himself flush with embarrassment. "Please don't go."

"Arthur, I don't have a choice." The Frenchman carefully peeled his fingers off. "It'll be okay." Francis was yanked away and frog-marched down the path to a waiting police car, glancing back as he was shoved inside. Arthur was vaguely aware of the neighbours' faces peeking out of the windows, but couldn't bring himself to care. He felt oddly numb as the car pulled away from the curb, slowly shutting the door with a quiet click.

"Arthur?" He glanced behind him to see Jett standing in the living-room doorway. "What's going on?" The pre-teen darted over, placing his hands on Arthur's shoulders, only a few inches shorter than his brother. "You're crying, what's wrong?"

"I am?" Arthur brought his hand up, feeling the moisture on his cheeks. "Oh..."

"Come on." Jett took his hand and led him into the living-room. He pushed him down onto the sofa, sitting beside him. "You've gotta hold it together, okay?"

"I know, I just..." Arthur trailed off, his hands covering his face. "I don't know... I ..." He made a noise of frustration and moved his hands to his hair, tugging on the strands anxiously.

"Arthur? Jett?" They both looked up just in time for Alfred to come barrelling into Arthur, wrapping his short arms around his neck. Matthew was just behind his twin, clinging to Arthur's side and fisting his hands in his shirt. Arthur wrapped his arms tightly around them, closing his eyes for a moment and taking deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. He didn't entirely understand why he'd gotten so worked up in the first place. He hadn't felt like that in a long while, not since...

He shook his head. No, he wasn't thinking about that.

He looked over Alfred's shoulder to see Ludwig and Michelle standing awkwardly in the doorway. He slowly sat up, beckoning them closer. "Come here, you two."

The two children shared a look, before slowly walking over. Arthur shifted Alfred so that the boy was sitting on his knee, Matthew still clinging tight to his other arm.

"Where's Francis gone?" Michelle asked, biting her fingernails nervously. "Is he with Gilbert?"

"Maybe." Arthur glanced at Jett, the boy having a decidedly nervous look on his face. "He won't be back for a while, though. He's been arrested."

"Like... the Police arrested?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes. He's being told off for doing something he shouldn't have."

"Like when we get Time Out at school?" Alfred asked, his hands fiddling with the tie from Arthur's school uniform. Arthur's eyes flickered to the clock, he should have been in over an hour ago... Oh, well, if anyone asks, he'll just say he caught a bug or something.

"A bit like that," Arthur finally replied. "But he's going to be in 'Time Out' for a bit longer than you normally are. Francis and Gilbert an even Liz have done some very naughty things and they are in trouble with many people."

"What about Feli?" Ludwig asked, his bright, blue eyes wide. It was an expression Arthur had never seen on the normally impassive boy's face before and it didn't bode well for the situation, he realised.

"I don't know," He confessed. He actually knew very little about this 'Feli' kid, other than he was a boy that Gilbert had picked up off the street.

"Has he been bad too?"

"I... I don't know, I really don't." He sighed, before forcing a smile. "I'm just gonna have to look after you until then, hm?" He placed Alfred on the floor and prized Matthew's fingers from his shirt, before standing and clapping his hands together. "What were you doing before the Policemen came around?"

The children shared a look, before Alfred answered. "Playing a game."

"Well, let's play it some more, shall we?" He carefully stepped around them, moving towards the door. "First one there gets a biscuit!"

The four children shared a look, before darting past Arthur and into the next room.

"I won!" He heard Alfred shout through the walls. "I get the biscuit! I get the biscuit!"

Liz sighed as she was taken into the interrogation room again. She was sat on the cold, metal chair and the recorder was placed in front of her, just like the numerous times before. However, this time, they left. She was left alone in the room as the two officers that had brought her here had walked out.

A minute or so later, a short, blonde guy appeared in the doorway. She recognised him as the one who had brought her here – Zwiggle? Wasn't his name something like that?

"Elizaveta Héderváry?" He asked and she nodded. He moved to sit opposite her. "I'm Police Sergeant Zwingli," He began, laying his hands on the table. She crossed her arms. She knew it was a defensive gesture, but she was suspicious of this blonde guy. That and it was bugging her why his name was so familiar. "Off the record, what's your relationship with Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

"Why is it important?" She replied, not wanting to disrespect the guy, of course, but this was probing into places she didn't want to go. She'd just broke up with her newly engaged fiancé and now he was asking questions about her ex.

"I just want to hear the story from you," He assured. "There's no need for you to be so defensive. I've already heard it from Gilbert, but I want to hear you say it too."

"If you know it already, then why you need to hear it again?"

"Because I want to hear how you tell it." Zwingli sat back expectantly. "I can wait. The longer this takes, the more I get paid." She huffed, biting back the strange urge to smile.

"In school, Gilbert and I, we used to date." The blonde nodded.

"Thank you." Was that it? "Shall we start the formal interview?" She nodded. "Don't you want a solicitor?"

"Oh, uh, yes. Yes, please." Zwingli chuckled.

"Don't worry about it. Apart from one possession case, I know you're pretty new to this arrest thing." He leant forward and lowered his voice shrewdly. "Believe it or not, I don't think you've done anything wrong. My daughter actually goes to your pre-school."

"She does?"

"Yes, Lili. Lili Zwingli." She nodded. That was where she recognised the name from.

"I know who you mean: blonde bob, green eyes, always has a bow in her hair."

Zwingli smirked. "Yes, that sounds like her. It was her mother's idea for the bow. Says she'll look too much like me without it." That made Liz chuckle. She could see it, the same hair and eyes. There was no doubting they were related. "As I was saying," Zwingli said, growing serious again. "I don't think you've done anything wrong. I think what Gilbert did was actually pretty amiable: Taking a child in off the street like that, especially with another young one at home. Not many people would do that. The boy, Feliciano, I think he deserves a good home, and Gilbert can provide that." He paused. "And here is where we go onto the interview questions. Your solicitor should..." There was a knock on the door. "Correction, your solicitor is here."

Feliciano thought he couldn't cry anymore. His eyes hurt, he'd cried so much. Could crying make your eyes hurt? It must do. His did now.

The food had made him feel sick. He'd been given a glass of water, but it had tasted funny. He'd drunk it though, but now he felt funny. He felt really hot and his arms and legs were really heavy. He could barely move.

He tried to look up as the door opened and two men stepped in. He heard them talking in words he didn't recognise – it wasn't Italian or English. One of them turned his face towards them. The man looked nice. A curtain of long, brown hair and bright green eyes. There was an odd look in them, but he couldn't place the emotion. The man's grip tightened and he tried to reach up and push his arm away, but all he could do was twitch his fingers.

He could barely find the strength to keep his eyes open. He just wanted to sleep, but not with these two men. When they were gone, maybe.

The man moved and he felt himself lifting. Was the man picking him up? He must have made a noise, because the man held him differently and muttered something.

It sounded like: "Don't worry."

The man moved and he could see another man: glasses, blonde hair and blue eyes. He had an odd look as well.

They started moving – walking – and carrying him with them. They walked for a while down boring corridors until they came to a big door and went in. He was laid on a bed – no. Not a bed. It was too hard. A table?

His arms and legs were moved and he felt things wrap around them. His head was tilted up, facing the light on the ceiling. Things were put against it, stopping it from moving.

He suddenly felt scared.

Very scared.

"He won't hurt you too much." The blonde man said.

He heard a door close. Had they gone? He couldn't see.

His eyes closed against the bright light and he couldn't open them again.

He was scared, so scared. But he was tired too.

He just wanted to sleep.

He allowed the blackness to surround him and he fell into a drug induced unconsciousness.

What he didn't notice – couldn't see – was the man sitting in a dark corner of the room, violet eyes trained on the two men who had tied the limp boy's limbs to the table. He slowly stood and walked over, looking down on the prone form.

"I'm sorry, Feliciano," He said, fully aware that the boy couldn't hear him. "I'm sorry I separated you from your grandfather like that, but I couldn't let him get away with it like that. He deserves this and, while I don't like the idea of doing this to a child, I need to make him pay." He huffed, running a pale hand down the side of the boy's face. "Besides, it's not as if you're truly Human, anyway..."

* * *

**There's a poll on my profile for a fic I fancy writing. Will you please check it out?**

**And if one person leaves a review, it'll be better than last time. I got 0 reviews last chapter. Zero :(**

**Okay, that's it (I hope) See you next week (hopefully)**

**Bye~!**


	8. Chapter 07

**This is now M rated.**

**There are some scenes in this chapter that may upset some people reading this, so this is just a warning if your one of those people: this chapter and the next couple contain mild violence and blood.**

**I got some really lovely really lovely reviews on the last chapter, including one from the girl who gave me the original inspiration for the idea - if you want to drop me your DA account again, I'd be very grateful ^^**

**LBL has passed 1000 views! I'm so happy!**

**Something to note: If I mention the nation name (England, Russia, Italy...) then I'm talking about the character from the Anime, if I use their name (Arthur, Ivan, Feli...) then I mean the person in the story - I know that may seem confusing, but there are things that have happened in _this_ that would change the way they would act in a certain situation.**

**Also, I meant to put this at the end of last chapter, but completely forgot. I don't see England as the type of person who would start having a breakdown in this sort of situation normally, but there are other things that have muddied the water for Arthur to make him act like that. There will more of an explanation as the story goes along, but I don't want to risk giving away spoilers - let's just say that he's going to feature very heavily in Part 2.**

**Okay, that's it for now.**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

What do you do when you think someone under your arrest shouldn't be there? When you know keeping him there will only do more harm than good? Go against your better judgement and follow the law or help them break out?

The first one, I hear you say? What's the point of being a member of Law Enforcement if you break it yourself?

Tough. Vash Zwingli took the second option.

He walked down the corridor, past the holding cells and criminals he couldn't wait to get through court. He glanced up at the disabled security camera, it had stopped recording at precisely 18:21 today and wasn't set to start back up again until gone nine. Three hours should give him more than enough time to explain to the three that had been brought in what he was going to do. Basically, he'd found a loophole in the files and was planning to exploit it for all it was worth. It meant they couldn't be charged and, since Beilschmidt and Héderváry had already been in custody for over twenty-four hours, they had to be released. The newest detainee, Francis Bonnefoy, hadn't been in long enough for it to come into effect, but chances were he'd be released. You couldn't harbour a fugitive if the supposed fugitive wasn't one.

The thing was, it'd take a couple of hours for the papers to go through. He hadn't heard head nor tail of the clone-boy since he'd been brought in and any enquiries he'd made hadn't gotten very far.

He inserted the key into the lock, glancing up again at the security camera, looking for any sign of the red light that signified that it was working. He had the lawyer he'd set up for Héderváry and Beilschmidt in his office, providing an alibi. The story was, they were discussing the details of Beilschmidt's case. In actuality, he'd paid him a fair chunk of money just to sit around in his office until he returned and watch TV – quietly, of course.

He stepped in, closing the door behind him. He turned around and faced the pair of red eyes staring up at him from the bed.

"What do I owe this visit?" Gilbert asked, smirking slightly.

Vash returned the smirk. "I have a plan to get you out of here..."

He repeated this with each of the three prisoners: Gilbert was immediately all in, clearly wanting to get out as soon as possible; Francis had been suspicious at first, but in the end conceded to go along with the plan; Elizaveta, however, didn't seem to trust him one bit. She kept herself tucked in the corner of the room and kept asking questions. He had to admit, it was bugging him, but she had a point. She was smart, he had to give her that.

Each time he left the cell, he didn't lock the door properly. Leaving the lock disengaged, so giving the door a firm push or pull would have it fly open. He trotted back to his office, ensuring there were none of his subordinates around to see him walking the corridors.

After shooing out the Lawyer, he opened his laptop and patched into the security cameras, ensuring that the still image of the empty corridor stretched over the time he was wandering around.

He sat back and waited. He'd told them to break out as the clock reached eight, which was only five minutes away.

Vash sighed and lay back, counting down the clock. Five minutes.

God help us...

* * *

Feliciano woke slowly from the drug-induced sleep. The first thing that returned was his hearing and he became aware of a buzzing. Not a bee-type buzzing, but the type electricity made as it passed through thin wires.

Slowly, his other senses returned to him. There was a horrible taste in his mouth and where he was smelt almost clinical. There were things wrapping around his ankles and wrists, holding him in place. He could shift his limbs and body slightly and could move his hands and feet, but other than that he was stuck. The boy slowly opened his eyes, only to shut them again as a bright light invaded them, a quiet moan escaping his lips. He tried to turn his head to the side, but found he couldn't - Something was pressed against either side of his head, preventing him from turning it. He could feel fear building as he tugged on the restraints, hearing footsteps coming towards him.

"Are you awake?" A voice said. A man towered above him, shadowed by the bright light on the ceiling. "It appears you are. Shall we begin?" He thought the man smiled, but by the silhouette he couldn't be sure. "My name is Ivan. I was one of the people who worked with your grandfather to bring you into this world." The man moved out of his field of vision. He felt like he should be scared, but the man knew his Nonno, so he couldn't be that bad, right? "We're going to have lots of fun. I hope you enjoy the games we're going to play." He reappeared holding a small knife.

"No!" He managed to shout, panic rising rapidly. "No! Please!" The man placed a finger over his lips, making a shushing noise.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you." He smiled again. The man lowered the knife and Feliciano held his breath, afraid of making even the smallest movement. He heard a cutting sound and felt the chill of the air against his chest and stomach. The man had cut open his shirt. He yelped as he felt a cold hand pressed to his side.

"Please. I don't like this," He begged. The man looked up at him, expression blank, before his attention was back at what his hands were doing.

"Don't worry, we're just starting the game. You'll enjoy it soon enough." The man cut away the rest of his shirt, leaving him in only his shorts. "So smooth..." The man muttered with a small smile, running a hand up his side. "So perfect..." Feliciano shivered under his mockingly affectionate touch, a tear trailing a path into his hair. "A wonder of the science world..." He continued, but the smile fell. "Almost too perfect. Too good. Too human..."

A screech tore its way past his lips as he felt the knife dig into the skin on his chest. He tried to pull away, but he couldn't. He was trapped.

"Stop!" He shouted desperately. "It hurts!" The man held him still, pulling the knife downwards, the tip scraping a bloody line in his skin. The boy screamed, tears flowing freely, as more lines were cut.

By the time Ivan had finished, Feliciano was sobbing harshly, his small frame shaking with the force of each sob. Blood flowed freely from the fresh wounds, trickling down his sides and pooling on the table beneath him and soaking into the remains of his shirt. Ivan walked away to get some disinfectant and bandages, it wouldn't do for the boy to die on him. He may not be human, but he was subject to their ailments.

The blonde walked back over to see the boy wasn't crying any more – or, at least, he wasn't making any noise while doing so. His big, amber eyes still stared up at him, watery and holding fear. The boy was pale beneath his olive skin and he could see him trembling. He smiled and reached out his arm, a disinfectant-soaked cloth in his hand, and wiped it across the wounds. The boy shrieked and twisted in the restraints and he had to hold him still again.

He finished cleaning the wounds, the boy now making quiet, whimpering sounds, and placed his hand on the small of the boy's back, lifting him up so he could wrap the bandage around the boy's middle. When he'd done, he pinned it in place.

The boy was breathing heavily and a sheen of sweat covered his skin. He moved away and filled a bowl with water, returning with a fresh cloth also. He dipped the cloth in the water, ringing it out before wiping the boy's skin with it. He could feel the young brunette tensing and flinching with every touch, his breath hitching as if he expected something else.

He smiled. The boy was scared of him now, but he didn't mind. In fact, he preferred it that way.

He leant over and gently wiped the boy's face, removing the cloying sweat and tears. He strokes the strands of auburn hair away from his forehead where they'd stuck to the sweat. He wiped the newly forming tears away with his thumb, seeing the pair of caramel-coloured eyes flicker open and stare up at him.

"Wh-Why...?" The boy muttered, his voice hoarse from the screaming. He tried to say more, but he started coughing.

"Why am I doing this?" The boy nodded best he could in the brace. "Because you're less than human and I have to make sure everyone knows."

* * *

Gilbert sat on the edge of his bed, anxiously watching the clock on the wall tick around to the top of the hour. He could have swore that the second hand was going slower than it was before, but he waited, and waited, and waited some more until the minute hand ticked around to bring the clock to exactly eight o'clock. Before he could have any doubts, he stood and walked to the door. He tugged gently on the door, but it didn't budge. He tried harder and this time it opened, he himself nearly falling back as he lost his balance.

He stuck his head out, looking for any guards, before stepping into the corridor and shutting the door behind him. No point in making it obvious he'd escaped. He looked around, trying to find some indication of which way to go to the exit. In the end, he decided to take a random way and see where it took him, he had to reach one eventually. As luck would have it, as he turned the corner, he saw a familiar blonde stumble out of his cell.

"Francis?" The Frenchman looked up, his eyes locking with Gilbert's.

"Gilbert," he breathed. "Is this really happening?" He walked over and clapped the blonde on the back.

"It is, but don't worry about it." He put on a wide smile. "With the Awesome Me around, nothing bad would dare to happen." Francis shook his head and elbowed the albino in the ribs.

"Then how did we end up in here in the first place?" Gilbert opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again when he couldn't think of anything to say.

"I'll get back to you on that one." Francis laughed and they moved further down the corridor. After several dead-ends and plenty of backtracking, they finally found an exit. What they found there didn't expect.

"Liz?" Sitting on the floor by the door was the third member of their trio. She had her knees pulled up to her chest and was wearing the badly fitting clothes she'd been given when her black dress had been deemed inappropriate. "You okay?"

"Yes, let's go," She replied, with a shaky smile, climbing to her feet. He put his hand on the door handle and yanked it open. They walked through unhindered, Gilbert leading, Liz in the middle and Francis tagging on the end. They found their way through the mostly deserted corridors, ducking into closets and behind corners as people came into view. As they turned a corner, Gilbert walked straight into someone. He looked up at the tall man he'd walked into.

"Who are you?" He asked, Gilbert putting a bit of space between himself and the imposing figure. At six foot, Gilbert was pretty tall himself, but this guy still towered over him. "You're not officers, so who are you?"

"Gilbert..." He heard Liz hiss.

"You're not an officer either, are you?" The man replied, a small smile twitching at his lips. Gilbert looked down at the man's white coat and shirt and tie beneath. He looked like a doctor, but why would a doctor be in a police station? "So what are you?" The man hesitated before replying.

"What does it matter?" His eyebrows knitted together into a frown. "What would you do if I called all the police officers in the area to this spot?"

"What would you do?" Gilbert called his bluff. At least, he hoped it was a bluff. The way the man had dodged his question made him think that he had just as much right to be there as they did.

"I have every right to be here," He replied, an amused glint settling in his violet-eyes. Gilbert suddenly realised his mistake. Still, he wasn't the type to just give up.

"Oh, really? Why's that?"

"Gilbert, stop this." Liz hissed, again.

"Yes," Francis added. "Let's just go. We have to find Feliciano anyway."

"Did you say 'Feliciano'?" His attention was drawn back to the man – not that it had ever really left him in the first place. He had an odd look in his eyes, the amusement fading to be replaced with something else.

"Yes, why?" He didn't want to ask it, but the question fell past his lips without permission.

The man shrugged. "Oh, no reason." He pushed past them. "Now, if you don't mind I'm busy."

"Hey, wait!" Gilbert grabbed the man's wrist. That was when he noticed the stains on the edge of cuff of the man's jacket. Red stains. That looked like... "Is that...?" The man wrenched his wrist from Gilbert's grip, but he kept staring at where it had once been.

Feliciano... The man had reacted at his name.

"_Gilbert_..."

Why did the man have _that_ on his sleeve? And why did he react like that to his name?

"_Gilbert!_" A sharp pain on his cheek brought him back to his senses. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Liz grabbed his arm and pulled him down the corridor. "We're getting out of here right now."

"No!" He pulled his arm from Liz's grasp. "I have to find Feliciano." He started down the corridor after the man.

"You're being ridiculous," Liz tried to reason, but Gilbert wasn't listening. "We need to get out of here, we can come back for Feliciano afterwards."

"No. We have to get him now." He heard two sets of footsteps following him.

"Gilbert, you're being irrational." Francis. What was this? Gang up on Gilbert day?

"He's right." Liz. "Gilbert, see sense." She tried to grab his arm again, be he shook her off. "He's in a _police station_, for Christ's sake. Nothing's going to happen to him here."

"That man had blood on his jacket." He argued. "And you saw the way he reacted to Feliciano's name."

"You don't know it was blood." Liz, again, but she sounded unsure. "It might just have been paint and he was probably the one assigned to look after him."

"When you don't even believe your own words, what's the chance I'm going to?"

"Gilbert, please." Francis. He didn't sound entirely sure in his words either. "We can come back for him later."

"Shut the hell up!" He turned on the pair. "If you're not coming with me, then you can fuck off!" They shared a look. "Well, which is it?" Liz opened her mouth, but shut it again quickly, looking away. Francis scratched his cheek awkwardly, also not looking at him. "I know that man knows where Feli is, and I'm going to find him."

Gilbert turned on his heel and stormed down the corridor, Liz and Francis be damned whether they were following him or not.

* * *

He could hear the faint voices of the three people he'd left behind echoing through the corridors. If they wanted to go about not getting caught, then they really ought to watch their volume levels. He moved quickly, rolling up his sleeves as he went. He didn't want those idiots to catch him up, did he? He hadn't even noticed the bloodstains on his jacket until that albino man had started staring at them. Oh, that boy would pay for staining his favourite jacket. He was just lucky he wasn't wearing his favourite scarf – the one his dear sister had brought him for his seventeenth birthday. He wasn't sure he'd be able to hold back if the boy dirtied that.

He entered the locking code to the room where the boy was being kept and stepped in, his two employees immediately standing to attention. He smiled – such obedient little things.

"Eduard, Toris, you may leave." They nodded and scurried to the door. He caught the brunette's wrist as he passed. He pressed a twenty pound note into his hand. "Get something for little Raivis while you're at it, why won't you?"

"O-Of course, Sir," Toris stammered adorably. His emerald-green eyes flickered up to meet his own purple ones for a moment, but they fell again, quickly. "S-Sir?" He realised he was still holding the brunette's wrist.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He smiled, letting go of the man's wrist. "I got lost in my thoughts there." He turned back to the boy on the table. "Don't let me hold you up. I'll see you tomorrow." He kept smiling, even though he knew that they couldn't see it with his back turned. As he heard the door shut and lock, he allowed the smile to fall.

He walked over to the table, seeing Feliciano sleeping. He tested the restraints, making sure they were still tight, and tightened them further. He smiled wider as he saw the thin straps digging into the boy's all too perfect skin.

He removed the brace, allowing the boy's head to droop to the side. He picked up the knife he had used earlier and pressed it to the brunette's temple. It was time for him to wake-up, but, unfortunately for him, he wasn't in the right mood to give him a gentle awakening.

"Wakey, wakey..." He muttered, pressing the knife in hard enough to draw blood. The boy flinched and frowned, his head tilting up slightly as he was drawn back to his senses, the movement only making the cut deeper. Suddenly, his eyes opened and he twisted his head to the side, away from the knife, his eyes screwing shut and him letting out a small surprised squeak. He pulled the knife back and bent down to the boy's eye-level.

"Good evening," He said, smiling. "I thought it was about time you woke up." Feliciano's eyes opened, stunned tears collecting in the corners. He watched as a trickle of blood trailed down the boy's forehead. He stood and walked off to get his case of supplies. When he turned, he found a pair of large eyes trained on him.

"Wh-What are you doing?" Feliciano asked, his voice shaking badly. You should never show fear, he learnt that quickly. You should also never question your captors, he learnt that also.

"You'll find out soon enough," He replied, setting the case down on an empty area of the table. He flicked the catch and opened the metal box. He picked out a scalpel, pressing it against his fingertip to make sure it was sharp. This would do for now.

He jumped as the door behind him shook in its frame.

"_Feliciano!_" He heard someone shout. He heard said boy mutter something and slammed his hand over his mouth before he could call anything out. Tears pricked at Feliciano's eyes, but he didn't let go until the noise had stopped. He held his hand hovering over the boy's mouth for a while afterwards, the scalpel pressing into the fleshy part underneath his chin to ensure he kept his mouth shut.

"That was a silly thing to do," He said. The fear in the boy's eyes was evident. He pressed the blade in slightly, revelling at the small stream of blood flowing down his neck. He withdrew the knife, holding it over a vein in the brunette's slim arm instead. "Say you're sorry and you won't do it again." When the boy remained silent he pressed the blade in. "Say it."

"I'm sorry!" Feliciano said loudly. "I-I'm sorry. I won't ever do it again, I promise. I r-really won't." The boy let out a sob. He smiled and withdrew, now with an idea of where to do his 'painting'.

He got a strap and wrapped it around the table and the boy's forehead, making him unable to tilt his head up. It would spoil the surprise if he could see what he was doing. He moved around the table until he was standing at the end, by the boy's feet. He leaned forward, running his hand up the slim leg until he reached the hem of the thin shorts. He slid them up, exposing the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He could almost feel the skin twitching under his touch.

* * *

He's followed the man here. He was sure this was the right door. He banged on it again, calling Feliciano's name.

"Gilbert, he's not in there," Liz muttered, sighing exasperatedly.

"Let's just go home," Francis added. "I just want to see Michelle, I'm sure Ludwig is desperate to see you too." That made Gilbert pause. He definitely wanted to see the little blonde boy again, but if he left and Feliciano got hurt...

"Come on, Gilbert." Liz tugged on his arm, pulling him away from the door. Maybe they were right and he was just being paranoid, but there was still a little doubt, this niggling little voice that wouldn't go away no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

After a few minutes of walking, they found the door that led them to the main foyer of the Police Station. He was surprised that there were so few locks on the doors, especially since it seemed so easy to break out.

They walked out casually, not looking back and not wanting to draw attention to themselves. Gilbert saw the way Francis almost bolted when an officer walked past, but put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Outside, they turned and walked down the street, unwilling to stop, but not with any idea of where they were headed.

"So, where do we go?" Liz asked, finally breaching the question. "Where are the kids?"

"They're with Arthur," Francis answered. Gilbert felt himself smile.

"Great, we go to Artie's place and hide out there!" He announced, but Francis shook his head.

"That won't work: A, he's at mine; B, he won't let you in if you call him that and, C, do you really think he'll let you hide out at his after what you did to him the other day?"

"What?" He replied, crossing his arms and huffing indignantly. "He was about to blow our cover. I had to shut him up somehow."

"Not to mention you shoved him into my rose bush," Francis added, smirking.

"I did?"

"Yes, when you ran after Feliciano. You shoved me into the wall and Arthur into my roses." Francis flicked his hair dramatically. "I spent nearly half an hour listening to him complain as I pulled the rose thorns from his derrière. I swear, I've never heard so many swear words in my life!"

Gilbert laughed. "Did you get a nice view?"

Francis chuckled also. "Yes, it was quite spectacular actually. Pert and smooth, much like a pair of..."

"When you two are done discussing Arthur's arse," Liz interrupted quickly, making both men chuckle like a pair of naughty children. "I have an idea..." That was how, when they'd scavenged enough coins from the floor and found the nearest active public phone Francis found himself calling his own house phone.

"_Hello?_" Came the familiar voice from the other end. Francis couldn't help smiling.

"Arthur!" He exclaimed "I only have two minutes, so I have to be quick."

"_Francis?_"

"Yes, it's the gorgeous me, now if you don't mind I..."

"_What the hell happened to you?_"

"Arthur..." He didn't have time for this. "I'll explain later. Meet us with the children at your place."

"_Why?_" Damn that Brit!

"I don't have time to explain," The timer was counting down: _30...29...28_... "Just...be there. I promise I'll explain it all then." He hung up the phone as Arthur began to reply, not really giving him the chance to say anything. He just hoped the teen had got the urgency of the situation.

"To Artie's?" Gilbert asked.

"**T**o _Arthur's_."

A few minutes later, they found themselves at a rather irate blonde's door, trying to convince him, unsuccessfully, to let them in. He stood in the doorway, blocking their entrance, with a very pissed look on his face as he glared up at them.

"Arthur, please..."

"NO! Now I'll say it one last time: Bugger off!"

And he slammed the door in their face.

* * *

**I'll repeat what I said about Arthur, but apply it to Ivan here. I don't see Russia acting like this, but Ivan's had things happen to him and he's just really lonely and confused right now, hence why he's taking it out on the most obvious person.**

******Also, I don't know if I put this last chapter (I cba to check) but I really need a cover for it. If anyone is kind enough to make one, you'll get a OS of your liking ^^**

******Okay, I think that's it.**

******See you soon!**


	9. Chapter 08

**Hello again~!**

**Here's Chapter 8. There's two more chapters of Part 1 (though 10 is ****_really_**** long) an intermediary chapter, before we move on to Part 2. I might have to slow down updates soon, as I'm starting to catch up on myself, but we'll see how things go.**

**I likely won't be on next month. It's July's Camp NaNoWriMo and I'm planning to try one of the other Fanfic ideas that I've had (it's the FrUKUS one you can read about the chapter before this) so just a warning for you.**

**0 reviews. Another chapter with no reviews. Seriously guys, I know you can do better than that. What will it take for you to leave me one measly little review...?**

**Here's a disclaimer since I haven't done one for a while:**

**Hetalia is copyrighted by Hidekaz Himaruya**

**Okay, I'll let you read now.**

**Enjoy~!**

* * *

Eventually, they managed to convince the annoyed teenager to let them in. Francis barely had time to say hello to Chelle, before Arthur grabbed his collar and dragged him back out into the hallway.

"What the hell, Francis!" He shouted, hitting the older male.

"Arthur..." Francis rubbed his arm as Arthur hit him again. "I didn't have a choice, I was being arrested." Another hit, on his other arm.

"You left me here with five kids!" Yet another hit.

"Ouch, Arthur stop it!" Another. "Arthur!" Another.

"You deserve it!" Two more.

"Arthur!" He caught the teen's arm as he swung again. Surprise flashed over Arthur's face as Francis grabbed the other wrist before he could attempt to hit him with that. Arthur bowed his head, his messy hair hiding his face from view. "Arthur, look at me."

"No." Francis could hear the thickness to the other's voice.

"Arthur?"

"Sh-shut up!"

He placed a hand under the teen's chin, tilting his head up. Sure enough, he could see tears glittering in the corner of his eyes. "Are you crying?"

"Of course not." Arthur tried to pull away, but Francis' grip on his arm prevented it. "Let me go!"

"No." Francis pulled him into a tight hug. He felt the teen tense in his grip, his fists tightening in the front of Francis' shirt then relaxing their grip.

"Let me go." Arthur repeated, pushing against his chest to get away.

"No," Francis intoned, tightening his grip on the smaller male.

"Dammit!" Arthur hit him with his fist, but it had no power behind it. "Dammit, let me go!" He was struggling to keep his emotions in check, his voice breaking on the last word. "Let go! Let go!"

He suddenly went limp, his head falling forward against Francis' shoulder as he leant against the older man. Arthur's legs felt like they were about to collapse on him as he clenched the fabric of Francis' shirt again.

"Please, Francis..."

"No, I won't. Not until you tell me why you're crying."

He heard Arthur take a deep, shaky breath. He didn't want to make Arthur this upset, but he couldn't tell what had him so emotional in the first place. He hadn't seen Arthur like this since the incident a year ago and, even before then, he had been more the type of person to shut his emotions away.

Francis pushed him back by the shoulders so he could see the teen's face. "Arthur, please?"

The Teen's head drooped again. A tense silence stretched between them, the atmosphere too charged with emotion to be even remotely comfortable.

"I was scared," Arthur began after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper. "You...You'd left me here with Michelle and Ludwig and Alfred and Matthew while you were taken to the police station and I... I..." Arthur glanced up at him, a pained look on his face, before staring back at their feet again. Francis moved a hand to Arthur face, tilting it back up. He looked into the pools of emerald, wiping a tear away with his thumb as it trickled down the side of his face.

"Go on..." He prompted. Arthur nodded lightly, his eyes flickering closed as he took a deep breath, unconsciously leaning into Francis' hand.

"I was so scared..." His voice was barely audible. "I kept thinking 'W-What if you didn't come back?' and... and..." He shook his head, his hands moving to hide his face. Francis pulled him into another embrace, one which, after a few moments, Arthur returned, his hands fisting in the back of his shirt as he hid his face in the shoulder. His slender body shook with silent sobs as he cried (who was desperately trying not to think about the stain it might leave) and Francis rubbed his back, muttering soothing words in his ear. The older male looked up as the door opened and Liz poked her head around the corner. She opened her mouth to say something, but quickly shut it again and disappeared back inside.

"I hate you, you know?" Arthur muttered after calming himself down, causing Francis to smile.

"I hate you too," He replied, knowing that the teen didn't really mean it. He had two dictionaries in his head: One being the Oxford English one, the other being the Arthur English one. In that one 'Hate' meant something along the lines of 'I consider you a friend, but don't read too much into it and don't you dare try anything, you bloody Frog'. This time, when Arthur pulled back, he didn't try to hold him in place. His hands rested on the shorter blonde's shoulders as he tried to meet Arthur's eyes, the younger purposely avoiding them as a blush coloured his cheeks.

"...k'you..." Arthur mumbled incoherently.

"What was that?"

"...'anks..." He repeated, no louder than before. Francis could guess what he was saying.

"I still couldn't hear you..."

"I said 'thank you', okay?" Arthur barked, causing Francis to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"You," Francis said, between breaths, patting Arthur on the head. "Just you."

Arthur frowned, shaking Francis off. "Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?" The teen was already back to his terse ways, even with the puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, Francis couldn't help chuckling more.

"It was neither, just an observation." He smiled and poked his nose, Arthur smacking his hand quickly away. "You're cute." He smiled again at the way Arthur bristled.

"I am not 'cute'," He argued, a light blush tinting his cheeks a pale pink.

"You most certainly are!" Arthur grumbled something unintelligible in response, but Francis was pretty sure he caught the words 'bloody Frog' at one point. He spun around, placing an arm around the younger's shoulder who tried to shake it off. "How about we go back inside."

"Fine."

"But you might want to wash your face first."

Arthur frowned, opening his mouth to say something, before he quickly freed himself and darted upstairs. Francis smiled and shook his head, stepping back into the living-room. Everyone looked up at him as he entered and, he had to admit, it was quite eerie with the same expression on all eight faces. However, the atmosphere was broken as Chelle stood and darted over to him. He scooped the girl up in a tight hug, lifting her to sit on his hip. She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Why is your shoulder all wet?" She asked, prodding the part of his shirt soaked with Arthur's tears.

"It's nothing, Chérie," He said, placing her back on the floor. She darted back to her seat on the floor next to Alfred, who was whispering with Matthew.

"Where's Arthur?" A voice asked. Francis looked down at the owner – Sajid, the eldest of Arthur's charges, only two years younger than Arthur himself. He took his part in caring for the house as much as he could, him and Arthur both juggling school, homework or coursework and jobs. Saj did the cooking and a fair amount of the cleaning, as Arthur had been known to be lethal with the cooking and was firmly banned from the cooker.

"He's in the bathroom," Francis replied and Sajid got up and left, probably going to find his brother, followed a moment later by Jett. Francis took the vacated sofa, lying back and setting his feet over the armrest.

"You know Arthur will kill you when he comes down?" Gilbert said, one pale eyebrow quirked as he nodded at Francis' feet.

"Oui, but I have a feeling he's going to be a while." The three after that settled into a comfortable silence, the only noise being that of the four children and their game. Gilbert and Liz sat watching the children play as Francis dozed lightly, taking a moment to revel in the calm that they knew wouldn't last.

"What are we going to do about Feliciano?" Liz asked quietly, fiddling with the hem of the prison issue clothes she was still wearing.

Gilbert sighed. "I don't know..."

* * *

Sajid hadn't been entirely sure what he'd find when he reached the bathroom. Jett sat on the top step of the stairs, waiting for them to be done. He knew their younger sibling wanted to help, but he was still slightly too young to understand things fully. He knocked on the door, hearing the movements inside cease.

"Arthur?" He called, hearing a sigh through the wood. "Can I come in?"

"_Sure_," Came his brother's voice. "_It's open_." He twisted the handle down and the door swung open. Arthur was sitting on the toilet lid, a towel in his hands. His eyes were still red and puffy and it was evident he'd been crying not long ago. Saj closed the door and took a seat on the edge of the bath, calmly waiting for the blonde to say something. He knew that when breaching subjects his brother didn't want to talk about it was best to let him start it how he wanted and, as if Arthur could read his mind, he sat up straighter and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," He said simply. The idiot knew he needed to say more, but it seemed Saj would have to coax it out of him.

"For what?"

"Must I...?"

"Yes." Saj insisted. "I wasn't at either of them so I want to know what it is that you're apologising for." Arthur glared at him, but he paid no notice, it was just his brother putting up defences that needn't be there. Just wait for a few moments and...

"Fine." Saj resisted the urge to smile. He knew Arthur far too well. He also knew without looking at him that he'd be hiding behind his hair again, something he tended to do when he was in a tense situation or one that made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry for freaking out earlier and... and for what happened just now."

"Say it."

"No, I..."

"Arthur..." They locked eyes, Sajid's dark orbs boring into Arthur's bright-green ones. Eventually, Arthur sighed and let his head fall, leaning forward and running a hand through his hair.

"Please, Saj, don't make me say it."

"Arthur..." He warned. He wasn't giving in.

"What does it matter?" The blonde almost whined.

"Just tell me what happened then." They fell silent for a few minutes, Saj returning to his thoughts.

He had noticed that, over the past year, Arthur had started acting oddly. Since the house fire that had killed Jeanie and Adam – their adoptive parents – he'd started becoming increasingly anxious. It had really started to get him worried and what had happened today had just left a horrible feeling in his gut.

When he'd received a rather panicky phone call from Jett he'd made his excuses and got to Francis' house as quickly as possible. At first glance it had seemed normal – Arthur was sitting on the sofa, the four little kids and Jett sitting there playing a game – but after he'd stood there for a moment, he noticed the signs that it really wasn't. Arthur was curled up wringing a blanket in his hands; something he didn't do, not unless he was upset or anxious, and was staring at the TV, but in a way that it was clear that he wasn't really watching it.

Jett had dragged him back out of the room and explained about what had happened when Francis was arrested. It had really terrified Jett, so he hated to think what Alfred and Matthew had thought. He'd said they'd ran up as soon as they'd noticed something was wrong. Now, Alfred wasn't the best at reading the atmosphere – something they all desperately hoped that would come with age – but even he'd ran up, sensing that Arthur was distressed. Afterwards, Arthur had tried to come back from his breakdown when Francis was arrested, but it was still clear that he wasn't alright. And now something had obviously happened when Francis had returned.

Saj was starting to notice a common denominator...

"I..." Arthur hesitantly began, his voice quiet. Sajid had to lean in to hear him properly. "I don't know. It's... It's like I couldn't control myself." He paused, sighing. "I really don't know I..." He paused again, letting out a noise of frustration, tugging on his hair. "When he was arrested, I just kept thinking 'What if he didn't come back?', 'What if he was locked up for ages?'. I... I know it's ridiculous, but I just couldn't stop it and... and when he came back... I just wanted to hit him. I was happy for a moment. He hadn't been arrested, he hadn't been locked up for life. But then that faded and... I hated him so much then, especially when he said he _broke out_, but..." A sigh. "I don't know, I guess that suddenly went and there was nothing else to fill it..." He let out an odd noise, one Sajid couldn't decipher. "I sobbed like a bloody baby! I'm not supposed to do that! I'm supposed to be the responsible one, the one who you can all rely on, but, no, what do I do? I go and sob like a damn child!" He let out a shaky sigh.

"I think you should see someone," Sajid said, causing Arthur's head to snap up and for him to stare at him.

"I can't have heard that right." Arthur gave a shaky laugh. "What did you say, again?"

"I think you should see someone," Saj repeated, looking his brother in the eyes. "I'm serious Arthur!"

"I am not going to see a sodding shrink!" The blonde exclaimed.

"But it's not natural, your fixation with Francis and..."

"I do not have a fixation with that Frog." Arthur's voice was low and threatening, almost daring Sajid to continue.

"You do!" But he decided to ignore the tone. "You can't even go a day without seeing him without getting all anxious."

"Okay, so I'm paranoid. What of it?"

"It goes beyond being paranoid and you know it." Arthur just huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms stroppily. "When Jett went on that residential, you didn't get so worried then."

"He was with people who knew how to take care of him, it was different."

"Bollocks!" Arthur raised an eyebrow at the curse. "What so you can swear, but I can't?"

"I'm older."

"Only by two years!"

"I'm still older. Besides, I am your legal guardian, so I can tell you what to do."

"...It's still only two years." They both shared a look before laughing, the mood suddenly lighter in the stuffy room. "I still think you should see someone."

"Saj..." Arthur moaned, his head dropping back into his hands.

"It's not right!"

"No!" He stood quickly. "I'm fine, I don't need any help. I am _not_ fixated with Francis. I'm not." He paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He turned to face the mirror on the wall, looking at Saj through his reflection. "I'm going back downstairs. You can stay here or you can come with me." And with that, he walked out, Sajid following slowly behind.

Jett was standing at the top of the stairs, watching Arthur head down. As Sajid passed him, he grabbed his arm.

"Is he okay, Saj?" Jett asked, worried eyes wide. Anyone could see Arthur was in denial, but he supposed that Jett didn't know enough to understand it all yet.

"I think so," He lied, smiling what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The younger gave him an odd look, before smiling back.

"Great!" The boy darted down the stairs, stopping at the bottom when he realised that Sajid hadn't moved. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, of course." He forced a smile again, hoping it looked natural enough to fool a nine year-old. He headed downstairs and into the living-room, thankfully he was just in time to see Francis getting a bollocking for having his shoes on the sofa and it was enough to bring a genuine smile to his face. He sat on a cushion beside Jett, the younger kids having vanished off somewhere. He let the adults and Arthur – he refused to think of someone as only two years older than him as an adult – to take the sofas and leant back against the wall, listening in to their discussion.

He allowed himself to drift into a light dose as he felt Jett's head loll against his shoulder.

* * *

Ivan pressed the edge of the scalpel against the smooth skin of Feliciano's inner thigh, revelling at the quiet noise the boy made.

"This is what you get for trying to call out to that man," He said, pausing and looking up at the boy, his attention quickly switching back to what he was doing.

He pushed the scalpel in firmly, the blade going in almost completely. The boy screamed, and he wiggled the still embedded scalpel, eliciting more noises from the child. Leaving the first tool sticking in the boy's leg he pulled the box towards him, picking out another knife.

He rolled the other leg of the shorts up, pressing the larger blade to the exposed skin. The boy whimpered, trying in vain to pull his leg away. Ivan hooked his hand around the other side of the brunette's slim thigh, holding the limb still. He could feel the skin trembling under his grasp and smiled at the pleasant feeling in his fingertips. He twisted the boy's leg so he could get better access, pressing the edge of the serrated blade against the skin and drawing it quickly down, making a jagged cut. The boy screeched as he repeated the action several times.

He placed the blade he was holding to the side, turning his attention back to the scalpel still embedded in the other leg. He flicked the end again, making the boy let out an odd squeaking sound, and repeated the action, chuckling to himself at the rather amusing noise. He took it between two fingers and twisted it sidewise, opening and widening the wound. He smiled as a steady stream of blood flowed from the wound, the red fluid pooling on the table beneath. He withdrew the small blade and pressed his fingertip against the seeping wound, the boy producing a high-pitched, breathy moan. He pressed harder and the digit entered the injury, drawing a hoarse scream.

He moved his finger about inside the wound, marvelling at the variety of sounds that the boy made, before standing back and wiping his hand on a towel. He walked back over to his collection by the far wall, picking up the tools he needed for the final job. As he came back over, he had a sudden change of heart. He placed the two items down, moving over to stand by the boy's head. He was sobbing and crying and thoroughly broken. He removed the strap around his forehead, tilting his face towards him. The boy flinched at his touch, but he had expected it.

He felt the sudden, odd need to calm the boy. He bent close to the boy's face, close enough to feel the rapid breaths on his skin and to see the wetness clinging to the boy's dark eyelashes, whose eyes cracked open slightly at the close proximity. He could see clearly the flecks of various shades of brown in his eyes, giving them an almost golden look.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the boy's forehead, smiling when he heard the child's breath hitch. The cut he'd left there earlier had stopped bleeding,the crusty trails and the red-ness of the nearby hair the only indication it was fresh. He paused, seeing that the boy had closed his eyes. He gently ran a thumb over the lids and trailed his fingers down the side of his face, his skin looking incredibly pale against Feliciano's olive tone. He cupped the young brunette's chin, being careful of the cut he'd made there earlier.

"Just a bit more," He said, looking down into the boy's heavily lidded eyes. "One last thing and you can sleep." The boy stared back at him for a long moment, eventually nodding slowly. He stepped back, taking back the two objects he had placed down previously and moving back around to the other end of the table and the wounds that were still bleeding. He placed one of the objects down and used both hands to flick a switch on the other. There was a quiet roaring sound as the blow torch lit. He picked up the second object – a thick, metal poker – and held the tip in the flame. When it was glowing, he removed the flame and pressed the red-hot piece of metal to the open wounds he'd made with the knife.

The boy screamed at first, but the cries soon reduced to whimpers and moans as he cauterised each of the injuries, periodically reheating the poker as it began to cool. He paused as he lined the tip of the poker up with the deepest cut he'd made with the scalpel, angling it to ensure it went in properly. When he was sure he had it right, he pressed the tip into the incision, causing Feliciano to screech loudly. As the smell of burning flesh reached his nostrils he withdrew the poker, walking over to a sink and dumping the poker in the water inside. It sizzled as the water touched it, however quickly cooled and he leant it against the side of the sink.

He walked back over to Feliciano and crouched by the boy's head, running a hand down the side of his tacky cheek. The boy's eyes flickered open momentarily, before closing again. He retrieved the cloth and bucket of water, wiping the boy's face clean.

"You can sleep now," He said, stepping away and placing the bucket and cloth down. He walked to the door, pausing to take a quick look back at the boy on the table, before leaving. He listened for the locking mechanism clicking back into place, standing and rearranging his scarf and checking his coat for any blood-stains. Fortunately, he'd managed to avoid any getting on him this time. That was one less thing the boy needed to worry about, he supposed.

He'd have to start making plans to have the boy moved soon, he realised as he walked down the corridor. He doubted they'd allow him to use that room much longer.

* * *

**Don't think I've got much to say apart from: REVIEW! pleeease.**

**Is is incredibly annoying to see in my email 'Story alert' 'Story favourite' 'Author alert' 'Author favourite' but _no review_.**

**I mean, 4/5 isn't bad by all means, and I like getting them all individually too... but still...**

**Even if it's just something like 'AWSUM CHAPTER!', it still makes all the difference.**

**Please, please, _please_ leave a review and make one girl very, very happy.**

**See you next week!**

**-Ayanhart**


	10. Chapter 09

**Hello~!**

**Just a reminder, this is likely the last update you'll be getting until August. And then the summer holidays 3 Six glorious weeks of no school~ Hopefully it will be sunny too - though considering I live in England, I'm not getting my hopes up too much.**

**Umm... This isn't as edited as some of the other chapters, simply because I have a portfolio due in on Tuesday and I have done absolutely zilch on it so far... Last I checked I got an E on it too... Ah well, I've pretty much been pulling As and Bs otherwise, so it should be too bad...**

**I hope...**

**Anyways, enough about me! Here's the chapter.**

**Enjoy~!**

* * *

After they'd filled Arthur in on what they knew, they waited patiently for his reaction. He glanced at the two who appeared to have fallen asleep on the floor. The children had been taken into the next room and, to be fair, it was getting kinda late.

"So what you're saying," Arthur began, slowly. "Is that you found a little boy in an alley and took him home, found out he was a clone and then tried – unsuccessfully, mind you – to hide him from the police." He took a deep breath. "And now you've all broken out, with the help of the police sergeant and came _here_." That last word was filled with so much venom, they'd all be dead now if words could actually kill.

"And we have to break in to save Feli from a creepy guy who is slowly torturing him into an early grave," Gilbert added, causing Liz to sigh.

"_He_ thinks that," She said. "Francis and I just want to get him out." Said Frenchman nodded in agreement.

"And you think I'll be involved in this how?" Arthur asked, clearly not looking forward to the answer.

"We need you're small frame to do some sneaking through air-vents," Gilbert announced. Well, that was the first Francis and Elizaveta had heard of any plan. "Francis and I are too big and Liz... Well, she has these." He pointed to her breasts – which weren't exactly on the small size – earning himself a painful clip around the ear.

"I'm not getting involved, you know." Arthur crossed his arms moodily. "I can't afford to get involved with anything illegal. It's bad enough you're here already, but I refuse to break into a prison to break a boy I've never even met out."

"Why not?"

Arthur looked stunned. "Are you brain-dead? I have four children in my care, I can't do something that would jeopardise that. What about Ludwig? What will he do if you get arrested and locked up for years on end. And ..." He turned to face the man sitting next to him. "What if the same happens to you? What about Michelle?"

A long silence reigned over the room following Arthur's words.

"It wasn't like I never thought about it," Gilbert finally muttered, unusually serious. "But I just pushed it to the back of my mind. I know Ludwig's a strong boy, he'll be able to cope with whatever hell this world throws at him, but Feliciano...I dunno, I think he's more...Fragile? Is that the right word? Still, he's only been out in the real world for a few days. Before that I think he was kept in sort of lab – not the creepy type though, his granddad really seemed to care for him – and he never experienced anything we would call normal. He was dragged out of his protective little bubble and wasn't given any time to learn how to swim before being thrown in at the deep end."

"Did you just make a metaphor?" Liz asked, sarcastically.

Gilbert grinned. "Hell yeah!" He laughed, but quickly grew serious again. "That's why I'm gonna go back for him, not matter what you say. Get it? I trust Ludwig, but Feliciano needs help and we're the only people he's gonna get it from." He smiled a sad smile. "I can't deny him that." The room fell silent, everyone thinking over what Gilbert had just said.

"I'm in," Liz said, bringing them all back from their thoughts. "I don't have as much to lose as the rest of you, so it'd be selfish if I said I didn't allow myself to come."

"Then I'll have to join = also," Francis said casually, a light smile on his face. "I'm in too deep to say 'non' now, aren't I?" Gilbert nodded at his two friends, before their attention simultaneously switched to the fourth member in the room. Arthur was sat with his head bowed, hands tensed in the fabric of his trousers. Francis reached and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay for you to say 'no'."

"No, I..." Arthur cut himself off, placing his hands over his knees. "It's not that I don't _want_ to, it's just I... I can't. I couldn't do that to them, I just..."

"Arthur, we understand," Liz added, with a small smile. She reached an arm across the gap between them, placing her hand over one of his own. He met her eyes for a moment, before dropping them to the floor again. "Don't worry about it. You have more to lose than any of us here, it'll be fine with the three of us." Arthur took a deep breath, swallowing the guilt he could feel building in his gut. His eyes drifted to the other person in the room, who had remained sitting back in his seat, face emotionless.

"If you wanna know what I think, you don't," Gilbert said simply.

"Please, just say it." Gilbert raised a pale eyebrow.

"If you're sure..." Arthur nodded, locking eyes with the albino. "Fine. I think you're a coward." Liz whipped around to glare at the older male.

"No, let him speak," Arthur said, catching her arm.

"You're a coward," Gilbert repeated, this time without interruption. "I get your choice, but it doesn't change what I think."

"I understand what you're saying," Arthur began, slowly. "And I thank you for being so honest and straight to the point." He stood, brushing himself down.

"You're welcome... I think." Arthur nodded.

"It's about time the children were all put to bed, don't you agree?" He walked over to the two slumped against the wall and shook them awake. He led them out of the room and, presumably, into the one next door, where the other children were sleeping.

Once he'd left, Liz spoke up. "You didn't need to be so harsh."

"He asked for it..." Gilbert replied. "Literally!"

"I know, but that didn't mean he wanted it so blunt."

"Actually, Liz," Francis interjected. "It was probably exactly what he wanted."

"Really...?"

"Yes," Francis smiled again. "He's a rather blunt person himself. You ask him for his opinion on something and, unless there are special circumstances, he will tell you exactly what he thinks. He and Gilbert are actually more alike than most people really realise." The albino raised his eyebrow sceptically.

"Seriously?"

"In all seriousness. You're both opinionated, sarcastic, brash, swear a lot, hide what you're actually feeling, don't want to seem weak..."

"Okay I get the picture." Gilbert frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose while Liz chuckled. "I think we've got off topic, don't you?" Gilbert steered the conversation back in the direction it should be going in. "We need to work out exactly how to get Feliciano out of there."

"Do you have any ideas?" Liz asked, fully expecting him to say 'no'.

"Actually..."

* * *

Gilbert and Liz soon found themselves at another payphone, calling the place they'd just escaped from. Francis had to stay behind, but he'd said he'd catch them up soon. Despite the late hour, female receptionist quickly picked up.

"_Hello, Police Station. How may I direct your call?_"

"Uh, Hi." Gilbert replied, as Francis and Liz stood in the doorway behind him. "I need to speak to Vash Zwingli, can you connect me to him, please?"

"_Err, sure I can. He's still in his office_." There was a short pause. "_May I ask what this call is concerning?_"

"It's..." _About breaking someone out of there, that's gonna sound good_..."It's about business."

"Business, indeed..." He heard Liz mutter, but ignored her.

"_Okay, and may I ask who this is?_" The receptionist continued. That caused him to smile.

"Tell him it's someone from the group he assisted earlier today."

"_I would prefer a name._"

"Umm... I'm not really at liberty to divulge that piece of information." There was a long pause on the other end.

"_Okay, sir._" Gilbert let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "_If you give me a minute, I'll connect you_."

"Thank you." He turned back and gave a thumbs-up to Liz.

"_Beilschmidt?_" Came a voice from the other end of the line. One that definitely didn't belong to the woman he'd just been speaking to.

"Sergeant! How glad am I that you haven't gone home."

"_What is this about, Beilschmidt?_" The clearly annoyed Sergeant snapped "_The longer you're on this line, the likelier you are to get caught._"

"That's why I'm calling. I need your help again." There was silence on the other end of the line.

"_I've already helped you enough, don't you think?_"

"It's just that...We didn't all get out." More silence.

"_No? Who's still in here?_"

"Feliciano..."

A pause. "_The boy?_"

"Yeah." He heard several muttered curse words. "Where can we talk safely?"

"_Meet me at..._" Zwingli paused, clearly thinking something over."_Actually, stay where you are. I'll come to you._" With that he hung up.

Gilbert pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at it in confusion. "What?" Shaking his head, he placed the receiver back on the holder and stepped out.

"So?" She asked.

"He's coming here," Gilbert replied.

"Here?" Liz echoed. "As in, here, here?"

"Yes, that here." Gilbert sighed. "He must be able to trace the phone, or something. Now we have to wait for Francis."

"Great, more waiting..." Sarcasm. Gilbert couldn't help smiling.

"Let's just hope Francis hurries up."

* * *

Francis had jumped when Sajid had appeared from down the stairs, insisting on talking to him. At that moment, Gilbert and Liz had appeared from the living-room, informing him that they were going out. Glancing back at Sajid – who had disappeared back upstairs – he said he had to hold back, agreeing to meet them at the place where they were headed. As they left, Saj reappeared, darting down the stairs and tugging him into the lounge.

"What is it?" Francis asked, crossing his arms.

"I'm thinking!" Saj snapped. Francis sighed, impatiently waiting for Sajid to continue. "It's about Arthur," He eventually began. Francis nodded, urging him on. "I'm worried about him. He's..." Sajid paused, hand waving in the air. "I think there's something wrong with him."

"Wrong how?" Francis did not like the implications in that sentence one bit.

"Upstairs..."

Francis glanced at the ceiling, confused. "Upstairs?"

The Indian boy tapped the side of his head, and, after several more confused moments, Francis understood. He paused and took a deep breath.

"Okay..." He continued cautiously. "What makes you think there's... something wrong with his head."

"You mean you haven't noticed?"

"No...?" Why? Should he have? Arthur seemed normal to him. Saj fidgeted uncomfortably.

"He's becoming very anxious."

"Elaborate."

"Well, whenever he doesn't hear from you within a certain period of time, he starts becoming anxious and paranoid."

"He does?"

"Yes, it has to be at least once a day." Saj let out a sharp breath of air. "You mean you haven't noticed it?" Francis didn't answer immediately.

Now he thought about it, if he hadn't seen Arthur in any day he would get a call at night with a very highly strung Arthur on the other end. It just hadn't occurred to him that there could be something wrong. He supposed Sajid lived with Arthur, so it was only natural that he'd notice more... Still...

He felt something uncomfortable stir in the pit of his stomach. He'd known exactly what Gilbert had meant when he'd said he had oddly protective feelings over Feliciano, except, in his own case, they weren't aimed at the Italian boy – it was Arthur, instead.

Yes, he loved Michelle. Yes, he never wanted to see her come to harm. But it was different.

He couldn't understand where the feelings came from. He knew Arthur was perfectly capable of looking after himself – even if what Sajid was saying was true – and definitely didn't need protecting, but when Arthur had been so terribly distraught earlier, he had been more than willing to offer comfort. The feelings becoming magnified, knowing that he was the source. _He himself_ hadn't wanted the teen to say 'yes' when Gilbert asked him he would join. He hadn't wanted Arthur to put himself in danger like that. He felt guilty by bringing the into this like he did...

"Anyway," Sajid continued, snapping Francis back from his thoughts. "It's been happening since the fire. I thought it was just an after-affect at first – that it would fade with time – but instead, it's just got worse. And with what happened earlier today..."

"You mean the crying?"

"The crying and the freak-out."

"The what?"

Sajid's eyebrows rose. "You mean you don't know?" Francis shook his head. "He just...Oh, what's the word? He went really weird just after you got arrested. It was Alfred and Matthew that snapped him out of it, but he's been really jumpy all day. Even the kids noticed it!" Francis remembered the fear glinting in the teen's eyes as he'd been taken away, but he hadn't thought that... "It's not _normal_, but he refuses to admit there's anything wrong."

"Denial..." Francis muttered, the word falling past his lips before he could stop it.

"I think so..." Sajid sighed. "I'm really worried."

And now Francis was too.

The seventeen year-old had been through a hell of a lot: two sets of parents dying on him, both in house fires – which, he suspected, Arthur blamed himself for them both – having his family torn apart as a child and having to take guardianship of his younger siblings when older. It's not the ideal upbringing at all. He wasn't surprised it had all caught up with him finally, but that it centred around himself... He wasn't quite sure what to think of that. It unnerved him, that was certain, but he didn't think he and Arthur had ever been _that_ close. Sure, they'd known each other since he'd moved onto the street and had been on-off friends over the years, Francis had helping him through the aftermath of the second fire and subsequent custody battle.

But for Arthur to develop some adult sort of separation anxiety (if that was what it was) didn't that require a very close relationship?

"I have to go..." He said, stepping back towards the door. He needed air.

"Wait!" Sajid exclaimed, standing and blocking his path. "Can't you at least talk to him?"

"Not right now."

"When then?"

"Later... Tomorrow..." He could see the anger building in the teen's dark eyes. "I will do it soon, but I have to go do something right now.

"Fine." The Indian boy huffed, crossing his arms and. Francis resisted the urge to smile. His brother must be rubbing off on him, it would be so typically Arthur for to do that.

"I'll see you later, Saj," He said, opening the front door. He paused with one foot outside. "Tell Arthur I promise to come back in one piece." Sajid nodded, smiling lightly.

"Oh, wait!" Francis raised an eyebrow as a mess of fabric was thrown at him. "You don't want to catch a cold." He smiled and wrapped the scarf around his neck, nodding his thanks. He turned and stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him as he called his farewell..

He headed for the phone-box that they'd agreed on and, sure enough, he found Gilbert and Liz waiting outside.

"Finally!" Gilbert called. "We thought you were never gonna show!"

"Please, have you never heard of being fashionably late?" He replied, with an eccentric bow. Liz chuckled, Gilbert just rolled his eyes.

"Whatever We're waiting for Zwingli to turn up. He shouldn't be long. Francis nodded and stood. No more words were shared as they waited for the good sergeant to arrive: Francis leant against the phone-box, fiddling with the corner of the scarf he was wearing; Liz sat on the kerb, crossing and uncrossing her legs anxiously and Gilbert just stood, toeing the ground, his impatience growing with every second that passed. He looked up as he heard Liz gasp, seeing her stand and look to the sky. He followed her and looked up also, watching as several white dots came into view.

"It's snowing..." He heard Liz mutter, as if it was the first time she'd ever seen snow.

"In March?" Francis asked, catching a flake in his palm and watching it melt.

"And they call it Global _Warming_..."

It was odd what snow could do. It had the ability to kill and bring a country to a standstill, but also could provide the greatest of joys. Many people got a warm feeling at the thought of watching snow fall outside while they were nice and snug and warm in their cosy little houses. It was the picturesque winter scene, a row of trees and houses, all coated with a blanket of thick, puffy, white snow. He couldn't help a smile forming on his lips as well. Still, he shivered as the wind picked up, whipping the snowflakes around them with more force, the flakes not getting a chance to settle, melting as soon as they hit the warm ground.

They all turned as a car came into view, Gilbert walking towards it as it pulled up at the kerb. Vash was sat behind the wheel, as could be clearly seen as he rolled his window down and ushered them all in. Gilbert ran around to the passenger side, taking shotgun, while Francis and Liz climbed into the back – Liz behind him and Francis behind the sergeant. Vash pulled out, back onto the empty road, as they clipped their seat-belts on. No one said a word as the oppressive atmosphere started to grow, making them all anxious.

"Where are we going?" Gilbert finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Nowhere."

"What?" Gilbert frowned, confused. "Then what's this for?"

"So we can talk without anyone overhearing." He turned onto another road. "You talk, I drive, and right now, you explain what it is you need to do."

"Well..."

"But make it quick. The longer I'm out with you, the more likely we are to be caught."

"Alright..." Gilbert twisted in his seat. "We have to go back to get Feliciano out, I have a really bad feeling that something's really wrong. To do that we have to get back inside the police station and that's what we need your help for."

"So you want to break back into the jail you've only just broken out of?"

"Pretty much." Gilbert waited for Vash to respond, when he pulled off to the side of the road.

"In that case, you'll have to wait for a bit. We can't do it yet." Vash turned off the engine and opened the door.

"Why not?"

"We need to get supplies first." He climbed out and paused, standing just outside the vehicle. "Are you coming?" Quickly all three unbuckled themselves and stepped out, moving around to stand on the path. Vash pulled out his wallet, looking at Liz. "Go and get some cheap clothes, those are far too recognisable." He handed Liz some notes. "Just a shirt and trousers. Just make sure they are easy to move in and dark colours." She nodded and dashed off to find the nearest open store selling clothes. Vash turned to Francis and Gilbert. "You two follow me. " He walked off, the two younger males following him. He led them into an alley, taking out a key and unlocking a heavy metal door into one of the adjacent houses. He switched on a light and the room was lit, albeit dimly, the dust particles floating about in the air. However, that wasn't what they were staring at.

Along the back wall were various weapons: From guns and knives, down to a simple baseball-bat. There was even see a pair of nun-chucks in the corner!

"Holy shit..."

"Mon dieu..."

"Because we aren't allowed to carry or purchase guns in this country without a license, this is my stockpile. I keep them for emergencies." Vash explained, looking smugly at the two stunned faces of his companions. "When you're done gawping, we have a job to do."

"What kind of emergency could require _this_?" Francis asked, following the short man towards one side of the collection.

"You never know what life could throw at you. I think you ought to be prepared for any scenario."

"Right..." He muttered, as Vash pulled down a terrifying looking dagger. The sergeant pulled out a baton and handed it to him.

"For the princess." Gilbert laughed, his eyes never leaving the racks. Francis snatched the baton, ignoring the deadpan expression on the older man's face. He handed something similar to Gilbert before taking a tazer and tucking it into a pouch in a belt Francis hadn't seen him put on. He suddenly felt very nervous.

"What's this for?" Francis asked, suddenly feeling very stupid as two pairs of eyes swivelled around to face him.

"You don't really think it'll be that easy, do you Francis?" That was Gilbert, and Francis prickled at the way he made him sound like an imbecile.

"Of course not! I just... don't like violence. That's all." And that caused two pairs of eyebrows to rise. Maybe he should leave Gilbert alone with his new best friend...

"Okay, come on. Let's get out of here." Vash turned and pushed past Francis, making for the door, Gilbert following at his heels like a little, albino puppy. "Are you coming, Princess?"

"Coming!" _What am I doing here?_

* * *

"_What do we do?"_

"_I don't know. Mr. Braginsky, just told us to check his bandages."_

Feliciano could hear voices, but couldn't summon the energy to open his eyes. He could feel pressure on his chest, were they doing something there?

"_Oh, my God...Did he...?"_

"_He must have done. Who else?"_

"_I...I think I'm gonna be sick..."_

"_Man up, Toris. Pass me the antiseptic."_

"_R-Right..."_

Toris? Was that a name? Was he one of the men he'd seen earlier? He was pretty sure the name was familiar somehow...His chest started to burn and he let out an involuntary moan.

"_Is he waking up?"_

"_I don't know. Let's just change the bandages and get out of here."_

He felt another pair of hands on his leg. He instinctively flinched away.

"_It's okay, we're not going to hurt you."_

More stinging – this time on his leg. He found the strength to crack his eyes open slightly. He could see two blurry figures and a jolt of fear spiked in his gut. He let out a whimper, causing both figures to freeze. One moved towards him.

"It's okay." The voice was clearer now. "This will sting a bit, but it stops it going bad." He had a nice voice. A kind voice. The other man whispered something he couldn't hear and the kind man moved back. Back to his chest.

The stinging got stronger. He sobbed. Please, no more pain...

"Shhh..." The kind man put a hand to his face. He felt things wrap around him – his legs and chest.

"He really did a number on him. He's going to have some horrible scars..." The other man. Feliciano forced his eyes to focus. Two green ones were looking at him. The man smiled. He bent down and wiped the cuts on his face and the one on his arm. They stung too. "Toris, we have to go."

"Okay." The kind man – Toris – pulled back. He disappeared from his sight for a minute, before reappearing again. "I'm sorry."

Feliciano tried to turn away as something was forced into his mouth. It was rough and grated against his lips and tongue. His head was lifted and something else was tied around his head, a knot digging into the back of his head. The man stepped away, towards the door. Feliciano followed him with his eyes until he left.

And he was alone again.

Alone and still scared.

* * *

**Ummm... Don't think there's much to say about this chapter.**

**The next one is a long one (it's over 5k words, and that's ****without editing**!) so hopefully you can wait until then. Chapter 10 wraps up Part 1, so Chapter 11 will be when the 12 year time-skip kicks in - making Feli 16 after it and Gil 32. The characters that are all little kids in this part get a bigger role in the next one too. So lots more people will be involved. ^^

**See you in August!**

**-Ayanhart**


	11. Chapter 10

**Hello again~****!**

**I'm back and updating. I said I'd get this up in early August and voila! Here it is on the first.**

**I've been going back and checking the first few chapters for any inconsistencies or continuity errors. I couldn't decide on Arthur's age, so I've finally decided he can be seventeen and lump it! When I started he was fifteen, but that very quickly moved up to sixteen, then I must have changed it to eighteen at some point, because that's what it said his age was in Chapter 2 (oops...). But, no, he's seventeen and is staying at seventeen.**

**This is the last chapter of Part 1. The Intermediary will be next, then Chapter 11 will be after a large time skip - 11 years. Part 2 will likely be longer than part 1, so it's probably gonna finish at about twenty-five chapters (maybe...). I wouldn't think it'd get past thirty...**

**This chapter's kinda long, nearly 5.5k without the A/Ns but I h****ope you enjoy it wither way.**

**Umm... When did I last do a disclaimer? But, really, do any of you seriously think I own this? I didn't think so.**

**I'll shut up now.**

**Enjoy~!**

* * *

Vash pulled the car to a stop at the end of the road.

"Why are we stopping here?" Gilbert asked, fidgeting around in his seat nervously.

"Because if I drive right over there it'll be too obvious." Vash turned in his seat, checking around. "Get out."

"What?"

"Get out. Now!" The three hesitated for a barely moment before quickly clambering out. "The code for the alarm is two-six-six-one-two, got it?"

"Two-six-one-two?"

"Two-six-_six_-one-two. Remember it. If it goes off it'll be the only thing that saves your ass." Gilbert nodded as Vash drove away.

"Two- six- one- one, right?" He asked, unable to keep the grin off of his face. Liz hit him. "Okay, sorry! Sorry!"

"Don't even joke about that sort of thing!" She took a deep breath, sighing in aggravation. "Let's just get moving, shall we? The sooner we get this done, the better." The two men followed her lead, walking down the semi-dark street towards the building which they'd not too long ago escaped from. The street lights were just starting to flicker on and they could hear the buzzing of the filament warming up.

"We must be mad to go back here..." Francis muttered, and Gilbert couldn't help but agree. They really must be mad to go back to a station they had escaped from barely two hours ago. He wondered if their disappearance had been noticed yet and, if it had, what the police were doing to look for them.

Soon enough they arrived at the station and they encountered their first challenge: Trying to find a way inside. They walked around the building and found a set of old-style windows which led to an office. They were painted a dull brown and the paint had, in places, begun to flake off, suggesting they were probably as old as they looked. Still, they had a wire-mesh attached to the other side, so there was no way to break the window without shredding their skin.

After some vigorous shaking, the old catch gave way. Looking in, they could see that the floor inside was a good few inches lower than that outside, evidently designed to make it harder to jump to the window to get out than to get in.

They found, to their dismay, that the window only opened part way, and the angle made it so that only someone from the inside could adjust the bars that held it shut. The gap was far too small for Gilbert and Francis to fit through and Liz, with her… generously sized assets and lacking upper-body strength, couldn't climb through either.

"And I was only joking about needing that brat for his size," Gilbert muttered. "I never thought that we would actually need Arthur's help." He noticed the way Francis frowned.

"One, he's not a brat," He said, glaring pointedly in the albino's direction. "And, two, it was entirely his decision."

"We've all got stuff to lose," Gilbert argued. "He didn't need to be such a wimp about it."

"He has a lot more to lose than any of us," Francis argued back. "If gets so much as a blemish on his record, the courts could argue that he's incapable of looking after the kids and have him forfeit custody. Not only that, but he'd probably be kicked out of school too, especially for something like this."

"Francis..." Liz muttered, glancing nervously around as their voices began to rise. "Don't, please?"

"We'd have to do the same thing if we get caught," Gil continued, paying Liz little attention. "Breaking into a police station is hardly like getting a parking ticket."

"Gilbert, please?" Liz tried again. Their voices were getting louder with each word.

"You think I don't know that!" Francis almost shouted. "The only thing that put any doubt in my mind about doing this was losing custody of Michelle. Arthur has four times that to worry about."

"Francis!" Liz hissed. They were all on a rescue mission and here those two were bickering.

"And the big deal is? It'll be exactly the same for if I'm separated from Ludwig or you from Michelle. It's not going to make the blindest bit of difference."

"Gilbert!" Oh, how she wanted to gag him – both of them! – right now.

"Alfred and Matthew are twins. They've been together from birth. Chances are they'd be separated as very few people are willing to take on a pair of kids, especially with their contrasting personalities."

"Do you people ever know when to shut up?"

They all froze as a new voice entered the fray. They slowly turned to face the silhouetted figure. Oh, God, had they been caught?

"You can hear every word from the street, you know?" They continued. "If you're trying to be stealthy then you've failed."

Francis stood as he recognised the voice, stepping forwards so he could see them better. "Wh-What are you doing here?" He asked. "I thought..."

"I'm allowed to change my mind, aren't I?" They replied, a small amount of amusement in his voice as he walked over to them. Gilbert and Liz stood also, sharing a confused look. "I left Saj in charge, so it all should be okay."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Arthur?" Liz asked, biting her nails nervously.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't." He sighed, crossing his arms. "Now that you've all stopped bickering, may I ask what you're doing just sitting around when you're supposed to be on a rescue mission?"

"Simple," Gilbert said, pointing to the window. "We can't get in. None of us can fit through the gap..." Gilbert paused, before turning back to Arthur. "But now you're here..." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Lift me up then." Francis and Gilbert shared a look, before moving over, each hooking a hand beneath his knees and tilting him back, Arthur's arms wrapping around their shoulders.

"Be careful," Liz fussed, but the three men ignored her. It seemed like it was becoming a habit…

"Shit," Gilbert groaned, shifting his grip. "You're heavier than you look." Arthur just ignored the comment and concentrated on getting his legs through. When he was through up to his lower-thigh, he felt his upper body shift again. Seconds later, he was falling backwards, the back of his thighs grazing painfully against the window frame before his knees caught, holding him in place. He swung, his upper-back and head hitting on the wall with enough force to knock the air out of him and make him see stars.

"Arthur!" Francis' voice. "I'm sorry! I lost my grip." Getting no response, Arthur felt a pair of hands on his face. "Arthur! Please!"

"...Git..." He muttered, blindly pushing them away.

"P-pardon?"

"Fucking froggy git!" He spat out. "Just lift me back up, this is bloody killing my knees. And _don't you dare_ drop me this time."

"I-I won't." He felt two pairs of hands on him, lifting him back up level with the window. He resisted the urge to wince as they pressed against a bruise that must be forming on his back. He moved now with a slight haste, not trusting Francis to not drop him again. He slid his hips through, adjusting the position of his legs so that his feet could be braced against the inside of the wall. He reached his arms out, holding onto the inside of the window and supporting his weight by himself. He shuffled forwards bit by bit, making sure that avoided hurting himself, until it was just his head and shoulders that needed to go through. He dropped his feet and turned his head to the side, sliding through in one move and dropping to the floor.

He bent down and rubbed the back of his thighs, still aching from where they'd scraped along the edge of the window when he'd been dropped. He stood and looked around, walking over to the chair and dragging it under the window. He stood on the leathered seat, reaching up to the window and peering back out. He saw three faces looking back.

"You actually got through!" Francis exclaimed.

"No shit, Sherlock," He muttered, wishing he could hit the Frog around the head. "What now?" He asked instead, not entirely sure what was supposed to happen now he was in here and they were out there.

"You let us in, of course," Gilbert replied, grinning. He rolled his eyes.

"Pray tell, how am I supposed to do that?" Gilbert reached out and tapped the bars holding the window in its mostly shut position.

"You get rid of these. There had to be something in there somewhere that you could use to unscrew the screws."

"Right..." Arthur jumped down and began searching for anything that could be a potential screwdriver. After several minutes of searching and increasingly impatient calls from outside, he found exactly what he was looking for. A screwdriver was buried beneath a pile of books and, to his utter surprise, it fit the screw perfectly. He quickly undid the screws and removed the poles holding the window closed. He pulled the window open fully and the other three came in: Francis first, then they helped Liz in, who then proceeded to hit Francis for accidentally grabbing her arse – at least, he hoped it was accidental – and finally Gilbert swung through, pushing the window shut behind him.

Now that they were all inside they wordlessly moved towards the door. It was locked from the inside, but it was only a latch, which they quickly flicked open and stepped out. The corridor was empty, but they couldn't guarantee that it would stay that way. Zwingli had broken them out at the time of the day when there were the least officers patrolling the corridors, so there had to be more now.

They moved quickly but quietly, Gilbert leading the group as they all wandered through the corridors. They had to backtrack a couple of times when they hit a dead end and they darted into (thankfully) unoccupied rooms when they caught wind of any guards. After many agonised minutes of walking the corridors, they finally found a familiar door.

"Isn't that the room from earlier?" Asked Liz in a whisper, stepping up beside Gilbert.

"Yeah. I have to get in there." He muttered.

Liz sighed. "We couldn't get in earlier, what makes you think we'll get in now?"

"Because I just..." He paused and quickly crouched back down as two people emerged from inside, pulling Liz behind him so she couldn't be seen. He poked his head slightly around the corner and watched the two men as they left the room. They were talking about something, but their voices were too muffled for him to hear the words that they were saying properly. Unexpectedly, one darted back to the room, catching the door just before it closed. He disappeared inside and the other man was left alone. That was when Gilbert got an idea...

"Toris!" The other called, waiting impatiently for his companion. "What the hell are you doing?" After a short while the man that had gone inside – Toris, Gilbert presumed – reappeared, jogging over and walking back quickly so he was alongside his companion.

"Sorry, I forgot the lights," Toris said, as he caught up. Quickly, they disappeared around the corner and Gilbert darted forwards, towards the rapidly closing door. Unfortunately, he wasn't in time to catch it and instead slammed into the closed door. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Francis, Arthur and a very livid looking Liz running after him. He stepped back as they reached him and, next thing he knew, his cheek was stinging.

"You are a downright idiot," Hissed Liz, hand raised. Had she just slapped him? How did he not notice that? "You know that?" She poked his chest, glaring up at him. "You are the most stupid, foolish, idiotic, ridiculous, brainless, obtuse, dim-witted idiot that I've ever had the annoyance to come across!

"Okay, I get the..." Gilbert began.

"I'm not done!" She exclaimed, cutting him off. "Why on earth would you do that, Gilbert?"

"I wasn't thinking."

"Well that's obvious!" She growled – literally, growled! – and hit him again, hard on his arm. "You're so lucky I don't have my frying pan. You will be in a world of pain once I get my frying pan..." Gilbert gulped and looked back at the pair of blondes, who shared a suspicious look.

"What's that look for?" He asked. Okay, he sounded stroppy, but he wasn't in the right mood nor situation to be happy at that moment.

"Nothing, mon ami," Francis replied, struggling to keep a smile off of his face. Arthur was also biting his lip, looking down at the floor and desperately trying not to laugh. "We're just wondering what exactly our dear Elizaveta is planning with that frying pan when she gets her hands on it." Arthur snickered and covered his mouth with a hand. He wanted to hit the prissy teen so much...the only thing holding him back was knowing that Francis would throw a fit if he did. He wondered if...

His thoughts ground to a halt as the implication of what Francis had just said hit him. Dammit, he was slow today! He looked down at Liz and saw her blushing bright red, a hand up and covering her eyes.

"Oh, really?" He said smirking, a retort forming itself in his head. "What about the way you defended little Artie earlier? Are you sure there's something you're not telling us, Francie?" That wiped the smile off of his face. Arthur looked up, a decidedly mortified look on his face.

"Don't even suggest that!" He exclaimed, turning red himself. "We would never...I...Oh, bloody hell, no!"

"Oui, Arthur has a point," Francis replied. Gilbert could have sworn he saw a light blush tinting the Frenchman's cheeks. "I..._We_ don't swing in that direction. We're just...friends."

"Please," Arthur cut in, pouting and crossing his arms, the blush fading slightly. "That's a bit of a strong word don't you think?"

"Really?" Gilbert jabbed, smiling slightly. "The way Francis was defending you earlier said something..."

"Oh, please tell me you two are gay!" Liz practically squealed, causing all three men to stare at her incredulously. "I don't know any gay guys and... Well, not only is it hot, but every girl needs a gay best-friend, right?"

"Hot?" Gilbert asked, sceptically. He had to admit, this was one question he didn't really want to know the answer too.

"Yeah." She smiled. "Two gay guys making out is, to a girl, what two lesbians making out is to a guy. I mean,_ come on_. Yaoi!"

"I..." Was it bad that that made an odd sort of sense? He'd never heard of that last word before (Yow-chee, or whatever it was) but she had a point...and he guessed he could apply it to the opposite sex too, if he had too.

But only if he _really_ had too.

"Well, Liz," Francis purred, stepping closer to Arthur and wrapping a hand around his waist. "If the lady insists..." He leant down and...Holy fuck, were they gonna kiss? He _did not_ need to see that!

"Bugger off!" Arthur placed his hand on Francis' face and pushed him back, wriggling out of his grasp and swiftly stepping away. He was blushing again, Gilbert noticed. "Keep your perverted hands off of me!"

"Didn't you say something like that earlier today, as well?" Francis muttered, smirking. If at all possible, Arthur blushed deeper.

"O-Only because that git pushed me into your roses!"

"Ohonhonhonhon. Oh, mon cher, why are you so embarrassed that I spent nearly an hour pulling rose thorns out of your backside." Arthur looked like he was about to collapse from embarrassment and Gilbert felt Liz cling tightly onto his arm.

"I think I'm gonna faint..." She gushed, fanning herself dramatically.

"Can we _please_ get off of this topic?" Arthur said, hiding his face in his hands. "Don't we have more important things to tend to?"

Of course they did.

"Yeah..." Gilbert began, gladly steering the conversation in another direction. "We need to find a way into that room."

"Like an air vent?" Liz asked, absentmindedly, looking up at the wall.

"Yeah, like..." Gilbert looked up, following her line of sight. "An air vent!" The two blondes looked up also. All four were staring at the air vent when Arthur suddenly spoke up.

"Before any of you suggest it, I am _not_ climbing up there." He crossed his arms stubbornly. "My legs and back still ache from where you dropped me before."

"I already said sorry!"

"It's okay," Liz quickly interrupted. "I think I should fit, this time."

A few minutes later, she was sitting on Francis and Gilbert's shoulders, prying open the grate of the air vent and slipping inside. She crawled through the confined space, looking for another opening. Finding one, she peered through, though she couldn't see much, as the room was in darkness – but she reasoned that that was a good sign, considering that the guy had gone back to turn off the light. Liz turned around, bracing her back against the wall and pushing her feet against the grate. She kicked it once…twice…three times and it eventually gave in. She slid forwards and jumped down, the jail-issue trainers landing almost silently on the floor. She looked around in the gloom, only able to make out the vague outlines of things in the room. She walked towards the door, one hand trailing along the wall, and found what she assumed was a light switch. She flicked it on and found herself frozen at what she saw. She almost wished she hadn't had the impulse to rid herself of the dark.

Not in her worst nightmares had she ever seen something that chilled her so thoroughly to the bone.

It was different watching horror movies. No matter how gruesome the death or how terrifying the demon was, you could always say to yourself 'It's not real. It's just a film. It doesn't exist.' But at seeing the scene before her, Liz had to physically pinch herself to know that she wasn't in some horrible nightmare. She rubbed at the red mark left on the back of her hand, but found herself unable to drag her eyes away from the table in the middle of the room.

The one on which the boy they'd come to rescue was tied to.

He had bandages around his middle and his thighs and she was pretty sure she could see bloodstains on the shorts he was wearing. She shivered, feeling very cold. Her feet led her over to the table involuntarily and she found herself stopping by the boy's side. She tasted salt in her mouth and, reaching her hand up to touch her wet cheeks, she realised she was crying.

"I'm so sorry," She muttered, running the back of her fingers against his cheek. He was unnaturally pale...How much blood had he lost? Her eyes travelled to the used blood-soaked bandages by his side. A lot, by the looks of it.

She felt sick. She turned away from the table and retched. The smell of blood reached her nostrils and she gagged again. This was all so unnatural...

"Liz!" Gilbert. He was banging on the door. "Liz, can you hear me? What's wrong?" She stumbled back over to the door. Leaning against it and tugging at the lock.

"It won't open!" She cried, sliding down the door. She felt a sob escape her lips. Oh, God. This was not happening. It couldn't be happening. Not to her. Never to her.

"Liz!" Gilbert again. He sounded desperate.

"I'm sorry." The words fell from her lips without her telling them too. "I was so wrong, I'm so sorry."

She could hear muffled voices from outside and then the scratching of someone climbing through the air vent. Not a minute later, she heard a thud as someone else joined her in the room. They swore, but it all sounded dull, as if she was hearing it through someone else's ears. It was all fuzzy, she felt like she was underwater.

She felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, turning her slightly, and a face appeared in her vision. Green eyes, blonde hair.

"Liz," They said. They had a young voice. Not like a child, but not exactly matured fully. "Liz, listen to me." She was, she just couldn't get her lips to say the words. She forced her eyes to focus on the face. The blonde hair and green eyes becoming sharper. More defined. "We… we need to get the door open. Gilbert and Francis…"

"Arthur!" Gilbert. "Open the fucking door!"

"Okay!" Arthur. Shouting. "Liz, you need to move."

"The...The table..." She managed, forcing her brain back into gear.

"I know." He winced and his head dipped. When he looked up again, he looked shaken. "Liz, please. You need to concentrate. You have to move so we can let Gilbert and Francis in." She allowed him to pull her to her feet and move her to the side. He moved out of her field of vision and off to the side. She could hear him talking to someone, but didn't bother to try deciphering the words. She took deep breaths, slowly climbing to her feet and stepping shakily towards the door.

Arthur twisted the lock with a grunt and the door flew inwards, sending him flying backwards. Gilbert froze as he stepped into the room. Liz grabbed onto his arm, both to steady herself and to prevent him from doing anything reckless.

"Feliciano..." He muttered, starting forwards, but Liz tightened her grip, preventing him from taking more than a few steps.

"Gilbert," She said, her voice unsteady. "Don't. We don't know what's been done. You might end up hurting him more if you move him, right now."

"I have to get him out of here." He spoke slowly, emphasising every word. He looked down at her and she noticed how his eyes had darkened to a colour eerily similar to blood. Resisting the urge to pull away, she just tightened the grip she had on his arm.

"The best thing you can do is call nine-nine-nine." She felt around in her pockets for her phone before realising that she hadn't retrieved it from being confiscated. "Do...Do you have your phone?" She saw him pat himself down before shaking his head. She turned to the two blondes who were crouched on the floor, Arthur holding his nose with red coating his hands. The door must have hit him when Gilbert pushed it open – the poor kid couldn't catch a break, could he? "Do either of you have a phone?" She asked. She saw Francis reach towards his pocket, before stopping himself and smiling wryly.

"I don't think so, ma chéri." His smile turned into a smirk. "But you're very welcome to check for me." That caused Arthur to elbow him in the gut.

"Not the right situation, Frog." Francis pouted and Arthur pulled a little black box out of his pocket. It took her a moment to realise it was a mobile phone. As she reached for it, Gilbert stepped away, pulling his arm out of her loosened grip. Before she could stop him he'd darted over to the table the young boy was strapped to and was busy undoing the ties on his wrists.

"Gilbert!" She exclaimed, turning slightly, so she could see all three men. Francis took the phone from Arthur's still outstretched hand, saying that he'd call for an ambulance. She took that as her cue to go over to Gilbert and prevent him from doing something stupid. He was busy struggling with the one on Feliciano's left ankle, tugging on it angrily and jolting the boy. She gently pushed him to the side. "I'll do this one, you take that one." She indicated the last tie remaining on his other ankle. Gilbert nodded and walked around to undo it. Francis was talking in the background – presumably to the emergency services on the other end of the phone-line – and both Liz and Gilbert looked up as Feliciano let out a low moan.

"Feli?" Gilbert gave the tie one last tug, before it fell away and he reached out, cupping the boy's face. The boy flinched away, as if Gilbert's touch was boiling hot. The albino just leant forwards, bending so he could look directly down into the boy's face. "Feli, it's me, Gilbert. You're safe now. You're gonna be okay." Liz gave the tie another pull and it dropped to the floor. She moved around the table so she was standing opposite Gilbert.

"The ambulance is on its way," Spoke Francis, pulling Arthur to his feet. "We're going to meet it out the front." Liz nodded and they left, Arthur muttering something she couldn't hear properly. She looked back down at Feliciano, whose honey coloured eyes were open slightly but glazed over. He was looking, but not really seeing them.

"Feli," Gilbert muttered, under his breath. "You're safe. He can't hurt you anymore." Liz wasn't sure if the words were for the boy or for himself. He placed a gentle kiss to the boy's uninjured temple, causing the boy to gasp and his eyes to fill with tears.

"N-no..." He breathed, his voice shaking and rasping badly. How long was it since he'd had a drink? "No... No more..." A lone tear escaped and trailed a path into his hair. "Please, no more... No pain..."

Francis tugged Arthur through the corridors by his spare arm, refusing to loosen the vice-like grip no matter how much the teen protested. He knew Arthur would escape at the first chance he got, but he was pretty sure the door had done more damage than the teen insisted. You did not get that much blood from a nose that was 'all right'. The scarf he'd been wearing – which he'd given to Arthur to use when his hands had failed to do the job – was stained bright red.

"Do you even know where we're going?" Arthur asked, sounding like he had a bad cold.

"Of course I do," He replied, trying to sound convincing. He knew he wasn't fooling Arthur – the teen wasn't an idiot. "We came this way earlier." He was silently mapping it out in his head, trying to memorise the route. Arthur was probably doing the same thing, likely with more success, but chances were that the paramedics would want to examine him as soon as they saw him. He smiled as soon as he saw the recognisable door into the foyer – recognisable, simply because it had 'EXIT' emblazoned on it in large letters. "See? I knew where I was going the entire time!"

"That's a big, fat lie and you know it."

"I got us out," He smiled. "That's what's important." They burst through the door, causing the officers that had remained on the premises to spin around, instantly alert.

"What's going on?" One asked.

"There's an ambulance going to arrive outside any minute," Francis explained, stepping slowly towards the door, but being stopped by one damnable officer. "My friend," He tugged on Arthur's arm. "He's broke his nose and there's a little boy in there that's badly injured." As if on cue, he heard the sirens of the ambulance in the distance. "See?" The officers shared a look, glancing between him and Arthur, who really must have looked a sight with the bloody scarf held to his face.

"Fine," The officer said. "But you're having an escort. You'll also have to explain why you're in the station at this time of night. Francis nodded and the officers lead him and Arthur towards the door, where he could see two medics dressed in high-visibility gear. They took one look at Arthur and ushered him away, the teen giving a slightly panicked look back at him. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile and led another paramedic inside.

He led them to the room where he saw Feliciano was now awake, if not entirely alert. He was wheeled outside – the table he was on conveniently had wheels on it – and transferred to the ambulance where he, Gilbert and Arthur were taken to the hospital.

He and Liz were taken into questioning. Fortunately, they were quickly released and were soon given an escort to the hospital, where Francis called an agitated Sajid, who, it appeared, had been waiting by the phone all night. He quickly explained the situation, urging the teen that he'd bring Arthur back soon. He also called Antonio and, on Liz's behalf, told him to call all the parents of the kids attending tomorrow and tell them that the pre-school wasn't opening.

Arthur was let out soon after they'd arrived, just needing a small bandage and receiving lecture on looking after himself – apparently he was slightly underweight too, which worried Francis more than he let on. He also gave something like a grudging apology. Or, at least, that was how Francis decided to interpret his 'don't bother saying you were right.' He made sure to keep an eye on the seventeen – soon to be eighteen-year-old. He tugged the teen off into a more private area of the hospital and told him what Saj had said to him.

"I'm really worried, Arthur," He said, turning the teen to face him. "If what Saj says is true, this isn't right." Arthur just kept his head bowed, hair covering his eyes, something that Francis had noticed that he did when being forced to confront something he didn't want to. "Arthur, look at me." Francis tilted his chin up, but Arthur avoided his gaze. "You – _we_ – need to do something about this. If this is my fault I want to help you." Arthur shook his head, but remained silent. "Arthur, please!"

"I don't..." Arthur began, but trailed off. "I..." He shook his head again.

"Please," Francis pleaded. "If not for yourself, then do it for me." Arthur turned to look at him. "Arthur, this is scaring me." Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again. Francis could see it in the teen's eyes: he was scared too. "Please." His gaze fell again.

"Fine," Arthur muttered, stepping back and glaring up at Francis. "But I'm only doing this so you and Saj will shut up nagging me! I most certainly am not doing this for you!" He turned and stormed off and Francis calmly walked back to waiting with Liz, outside the room where Feliciano was being kept. She glanced up at him with an odd look and he realised he had a huge grin on his face.

Arthur reappeared a few minutes later, a steaming cup of tea in his hands. He took the seat next to Francis.

"Thank you," He muttered barely audibly and Francis pretended that he hadn't heard the teen say the words. Arthur brought the polystyrene cup to his lips and sipped the tea, grimacing at the taste as Francis bit back a smile.

Not long after, Antonio showed up and sat with the three of them, waiting for Gilbert to return. They filled him on everything, deciding that it wasn't fair to keep him out of the loop.

About an hour or so later (or at least enough time for Arthur to fall asleep against Francis' shoulder, which Liz deemed to be 'extremely cute'), Gilbert reappeared from the room where Feliciano was being cared for, looking more tired and haggard than Francis had ever seen him. He gently laid the sleeping teen down on the bench and moved to support his friend as Antonio took the other side. They set him down on a nearby seat. He looked pale – paler than usual, at least.

"That sick bastard..." The albino muttered. "Feliciano's going to be left with scars. He cauterised some of the wounds, as if that makes it any better." He let out a short, bitter laugh "There were loads on the inside of his thighs, and they thought he might have been..." The word stuck in his throat, but they all got his meaning. "But he wasn't. I guess that's some consolation. But he..." He dropped his face into his hands. "He carved the word 'FAKE' into his chest. It's gonna scar. They couldn't do anything about it. Who does that!"

They all sat in silence after that, Liz taking Francis' place next to the albino when he went back to sit next to Arthur. She pulled him into a hug, which he didn't resist, and let him cry on her shoulder.

* * *

**And that's the end of Part 1!**

**I'm sorry if you felt it wrapped up a bit quickly, but this chapter was getting long and I didn't want to have to split it and drag it on for another chapter needlessly. I think it's better for things to happen quickly than for an author to drag things out, but that's just my thoughts.**

**I might change the update schedule to every fortnight... Well, it'll probably be two weeks either way, untill an update because I have another fic that I wrote for Camp NaNo that I want to start uploading. It's a FrUKUS one, inspired by the song Breaking by Anberlin. So if you're into that sort of thing, keep an eye out for that.**

**Okay, I think that's that. See you in two weeks with the Intermediary Chapter. It should answer the question that's been popping up in a few reviews.**

**-Ayanhart**


	12. Intermediary Chapter

**No, I'm not dead! I'm sorry for not updating for a month, but I've basically had no internet connection for most of August and it just came back today.**

**So, Tah-dah! Here's the Intermediary Chapter. I think this'll reach thirty-odd chapters when done all in all... Not that it's anywhere near the end, mind you.**

**Not much else to say, but this should answer some questions a few of you have been bringing up.**

**Enjoy~!**

* * *

_**Six Months Later...**_

"Feliciano!"

The young brunette turned at the sound of his name being called. His face lit up as he saw who it was, glancing up at Gilbert, who just nodded.

"Nonno!" He ran up to the elderly man, who carefully bent down and pulled him into a tight hug.

"It's good to see you again, Feli." Romulus said, holding the boy at arm's length so he could see him properly. "Come stai?"

"Bene, grazie!" Feliciano giggled at the bit of Italian he remembered. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah..." Romulus slowly stood, one hand resting affectionately on the boy's head. He had really sprouted recently, Gilbert noticed silently. He was about the same height as Ludwig now. "I think you ought to ask Gilbert instead." The boy frowned confusedly, looking between the two men before repeating his question to the albino.

"I said that your Nonno could come and visit occasionally," Gilbert explained, Feliciano's face lighting up like a hundred-watt light bulb.

"Really?"

Gilbert nodded again. "Really. Go have fun, Feli." The boy blinked before darting back over and giving Gilbert a big hug. He bent down, giving Feliciano a hug in return.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!" Feliciano exclaimed.

"You don't have to thank me, just enjoy it." Feliciano laughed and nodded, planting a kiss on Gilbert's cheek.

"Bye, Gilbert!" He turned to the blonde boy by the albino's side.

"Have fun," Ludwig said, smiling shyly.

"I will. Lots and lots!" He laughed again, hugging the other boy and kissing him also. "Bye, Ludwig!" The blonde blushed and muttered something that sounded like "Goodbye" as Feliciano took his grandfather's hand, chatting happily away to the elderly man.

"Guess it's just you and me tonight, little man," Gilbert announced, ruffling Ludwig's hair with the hand that wasn't full of shopping bags. The boy muttered something unintelligible and, like every time his hair was messed up, tried to smooth it all back down again, causing Gilbert to laugh.

Ludwig obediently reached up and took his hand as they crossed the road and turned onto their street. The first thing Gilbert noticed was the person standing by their door. As they drew closer , he was able to clearly identify the person – or, rather, people.

"Francis?" A flustered Francis was standing on the top step with three kids hanging off of him.

"Gilbert!" The Frenchman cried desperately. "Please, mon ami, help me with these little monsters!"

Gilbert couldn't help but laugh. Alfred was sitting on the man's shoulders, pulling at his hair (_oh, the horror!_) and pretending he was a cowboy; Michelle was supported in one arm, but she was trying to stand and was also pulling at Francis' hair and shirt; and finally, Matthew was clinging to the Frenchman's leg, preventing him from going anywhere and looking innocently up at Gilbert. Sajid and Ralph were standing slightly back, wide smiles on their faces as they watched Francis struggling with the younger children.

Reaching up, Gilbert pulled a protesting Alfred off of Francis' shoulders, carrying him over his shoulder as he unlocked the door. He dumped the wriggling boy on his feet in the hall, resisting the urge to laugh at the way he pouted and crossed his arms moodily in a near perfect imitation of his eldest brother. He sidestepped the boy and walked through to the kitchen, dumping the bags on the counter before walking back through to the crowd.

Francis had disentangled himself from the other children and was slumped against the wall, running a hand through his dishevelled hair and trying to rearrange it back into some sort of order.

"How does Antonio manage?" He muttered to no one in particular. "I can barely cope with three of the little terrors and he works with nearly twenty of them!"

"Stop being such a girl," Sajid snarked, standing in the doorway and rolling his eyes. "Go and get yourself a shag or something. You'll feel better afterwards." Francis looked at him, mouth open and one hand over his heart, a hurt expression on his face.

"Is that all you think of me, Sajid?" He asked, putting on the most pitiful voice he could.

"No, I think less of you," Saj shot back, the smirk making it clear that he didn't mean the words. "Still, I can't hang about." He turned around and walked back down the steps, waving over his shoulder with a 'See ya!'

"Where's he going?" Francis asked Jett, moving to shut the door as he saw Gilbert lead the little-ones into the lounge.

"He's got a date," The boy said, his tone making it clear the Sajid hadn't wanted him to tell anyone. Jett never could keep a secret.

"A date?" The boy nodded.

"Priya Sheikh. She moved here from Bangladesh a few years back." Jett chuckled. "He's been buttering her up ever since and he's finally gotten up the courage and asked her out." Francis laughed, glad to hear that _someone_ was having some luck in the romance department. He'd been having a dry spell for a while now and he really needed to get back on the market, as crude as it sounded.

Maybe Saj was right… He really did need to get laid.

"Hey, Frenchie!" He heard a voice call through the house. "Where've ya got to?" He and Jett quickly walked through the house, seeing the four young children and Gilbert messing about in the living-room. He was lying on the floor with the four kids sitting on top of him. "You were right about them being monsters!"

"Rawr!" Alfred growled, slashing as Gilbert with his 'claws'. "We're going to gobble you up!"

"No!" Ludwig protested. "We can't eat him! I won't have a brother then!"

"You have Feli," Matthew added, as Michelle picked up Gilbert's hand and gently nibbled at his fingers. Francis couldn't help wondering worriedly when the last time Gilbert had washed had been.

"We should eat him, he's yummy!" She exclaimed, bouncing on Gilbert's stomach and causing the man beneath her to wince.

"But he's littler than me!" Ludwig argued. "I'd have to look after him and I can't do that. Besides, he's not my proper brother anyway. We don't have the same mummy and daddy."

Alfred frowned. "But Arthur and Saj and Jett don't have the same mummy and daddy as me and Matthew, but they're all still my brothers."

"But you still had the same ad... ab... abot..." Ludwig frowned as he tried to think of the word.

"Adoptive?" Francis suggested and Ludwig nodded.

"Yeah, you have the same ad...addotiv mummy and daddy."

"Me and Francis don't have the same daddy," Michelle said, causing all three boys to pull a confused expression.

"But... You and Francis are a proper brother and sister," Matthew muttered, brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what Michelle had said. "You need the same mummy and daddy."

"We have the same mummy, but not the same daddy." Michelle smiled as she tried to explain, playing with the fingers on the hand she had been pretending to nibble on earlier. "But we're still a proper brother and sister, just like Ludwig and Uncle Gil." Alfred and Matthew shared a still confused look as Ludwig stared down at his brother. Gilbert wrapped his free arm around the boy, pulling him down into a one-armed hug.

"And you're the bestest little brother in the world," He whispered in the boy's ear, causing him to smile. He wriggled in Gilbert's grip, getting comfortable as he laid on Gilbert's chest.

"Is that why Francis and you look nothing alike?" Alfred asked, ignoring the two brothers. Michelle tilted her head, now the confused one.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... Mattie and me have the same hair and skin. It's only our eyes that are different colours." The boy glanced between the girl and the man standing in the doorway. "But Francis has blonde hair and blue eyes and light skin, but on you everything's dark."

"I don't know..." Michelle looked up at her brother, her brown eyes wide. "Is it?"

"Uh..." Francis rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Your daddy lived in this place called the Seychelles, which is full of people with dark skin. When Mama went there, she met this man and you ended up being made." He coughed embarrassedly, hearing Gilbert chuckling to himself.

"Is that why Toni and Feli have slightly darker skin?" Alfred asked again. "And Kiku and Yong Soo?"

"And Carlos?" Matthew added, earning an odd look from Alfred.

"Yeah," Francis answered. "Yao and his wife were from East-Asia and Feli's family are from Italy. Toni's parents were from Spain. Toni actually used to live there, but they moved here when he was twelve – a bit like mine and Gilbert's mum and dad."

"We used to live in Spain?" Ludwig asked, brow furrowing as he tilted his head back to look at his brother.

"Nah, Little Man," Gilbert corrected, beaming widely. "Mutti and Vati were from Germany, but they moved here when I was really little." He looked back up at the blonde. "Francis' Mum and Dad were from France. Francis from France – it fits!" Said Frenchman just sighed.

"I've lost count how many times you've made that joke over the years."

"But it's awesome," Gilbert cheered. "Just like me, right Lutz?" The blonde boy nodded vigorously, smiling.

"Anyway..." He said, grabbing Michelle around the waist and lifting her up, the girl screeching in delight as she swung, her feet hanging just above the floor. "I think it's time for dinner, don't you?" All four children cheered their confirmation and Francis wandered through to the kitchen, the four four-year olds on his tail. Jett trailed behind slightly as Gilbert picked himself up off the floor.

"Why's Francis got the two boys?" Gilbert asked, leaning backwards and cracking his back. God, he felt like an old man sometimes.

"Arthur's on one of those young carer outing things," Jett explained, pausing just outside the kitchen. "Don't mention it in front of Alfred or Matthew, though. We haven't told them."

"Okay..."

"Try not to mention his name either," The teen continued, sounding much older than his twelve years. "Or they'll start asking questions. Alfred likes to pretend he's a superhero and tries to 'save' Arthur whenever he's upset or not at his best, but both of the boys seem to have radar hearing for his name."

Jett placed a wide smile on his face as he walked into the kitchen, taking a seat next to the two boys at the dining table. Gilbert moved to stand beside Francis, who was pottering about the small kitchen, preparing a meal. Gilbert decided to leave him to it, even if the blonde was a guest.

"How's the rabbit?" Gilbert asked, using Francis' old nickname for Arthur and hoping that the boys wouldn't pick up on it. Francis frowned, confused momentarily, before realisation dawned on him.

"He's fine," The Frenchman replied, his lips twisting up into a smile. "He's off playing with his friends at the moment."

"I know, Jett told me." Francis glanced over his shoulder at the pre-teen, who was staring at them, having heard his name mentioned. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Jett told you what?" He asked cautiously.

"About the rabbit," Gilbert replied, laughing at the confused look that planted itself on Jett's face. The brunette shook it off quickly, going back to playing with Alfred, who was sitting on his lap, the other three seats taken up by the children.

"Whatever." Both adults shared a look, turning back around again. Gilbert leant forwards, his elbows resting on the counter as Francis resumed his cooking.

"I meant, how is he generally?" Gilbert lowered his voice, staring through the window and out into the small garden. "I haven't seen him around recently."

"He hasn't had much time to himself recently," Francis explained, also in a quiet voice. He paused momentarily, taking a hair-band from off of his wrist and using it to tie his hair back, before picking up the knife again. "Between trying to choose the college he wants to go to – he's got accepted into almost every one he's applied to, you know – juggling his jobs and taking care of the little ones, he's barely had any time to rest." Francis shook his head a small smile tugging at his lips. "Jett, Saj and I almost had to force him to go the young carers' thing."

"It sounds like he needs the break," Gilbert commented.

"He does." Francis let out a short laugh. "I had to carry him to bed the other day. He'd sat on the sofa and I'd gone to make him some tea and by the time I'd brought it back through he was fast asleep." Francis sighed, but the smile on his face betrayed his amusement. "It's quite funny looking back on it, the Rabbit just crashing like that. I'm sure he hasn't had to be carried upstairs in a long time..." Francis trailed off, frowning slightly. Gilbert straightened up as worry flashed across his friend's face.

"What's wrong?" Francis shook his head, moving over to the fridge and taking out some more ingredients.

"Oh, it's nothing." Francis waved him off, but the worried expression didn't leave his face. "Probably just me fretting again."

"Yeah? Then why do you sound like you're trying to convince yourself when you say that." Francis glanced at him, the usually vibrant baby-blues looking suddenly tired. Gilbert place a hand on Francis' shoulder, tugging gently. "C'mon. Take a breather. They're not gonna starve in ten minutes." Francis smiled dryly, but followed Gilbert outside. He saw the Frenchman glance behind him as they stepped through the door, pretending not to see the

They walked to the other end of the long garden and sat on the worn bench there, pleasantly in the shade created by the tree next door. They sat in silence for a few moments; as much as Gilbert wanted to help his friend, he was never any good at these heart-to-heart things.

"You can't keep mothering him, Francis," He said, eventually.

"I know, I just..." Francis sighed again, leaning back against the rickety fence and rubbing his eyes. "I worry about Arthur so much. I know he's eighteen and an adult, but I just can't let go." The Frenchman paused and Gilbert decided to remain quiet. Francis needed to get this off his chest and Gilbert was okay with providing an ear to listen if it helped his friend. "He's... I've known him for so long now, and I guess he's like a little brother to me. I feel that odd sort of protectiveness." He laughed, but it was without humour. "I know he wants to be independent, but... It's this horrible disorder that he has. I just wonder if I make it worse sometimes..."

"You're gonna need to let him go eventually." Gilbert said, seeing Francis nod in a half-hearted agreement out of the corner of his eye. "I'm dreading the day it's gonna happen with Ludwig and Feli. When they grow up and want to move out on their own, maybe find girlfriends and settle down and have kids of their own."

Francis sat up next to him. "That's unusually sentimental for you, Gilbert."

"Hey, I can be all touchy-feely when I want to be!" Gilbert crossed his arms indignantly. The nerve! Saying he couldn't be sensitive. He knew how to do it... He just didn't that often. However, Francis was laughing now, so that was always good.

"Speaking of girlfriends..." Oh, _crap_... "What's going on with you and our dear Elizaveta?"

"N-nothing."

"Has anyone ever told you, Gilbert, that you're a terrible liar." Gilbert pouted, thoroughly unamused.

"I'm not."

"And now you sound like a child."

"This is my house, I can always throw you out!"

"Is that a threat?"

"... Nah! Then I'd be stuck with four kids to look after by myself." He shuddered. "Two is bad enough." He stood, grabbing Francis' arm and yanking him to his feet. He shoved him back towards the house. "Go get cooking!"

"Nonno?"

"What is it, Feliciano?" The boy looked up at the old man holding his hand.

"Where are we going?" He saw the old man smile, but it was an odd smile. It looked almost... sad.

But smiles are happy, so how could they be sad?

"It's a special place," The man said, still smiling that weird smile.

Feliciano didn't want to ask any questions after that... Well, he did, but he didn't want to make Nonno sadder, so he kept them to himself. But he _really_ wanted to know where they were going, because he already missed Gilbert and Ludwig.

"Can Ludwig and Gilbert come next time?"

"What do you mean?" Nonno frowned down at him, looking confused.

"Can Ludwig and Gilbert come with us next time?" He repeated, though he didn't see why he had to. "At least, can Ludwig come? It's just that he's my best friend and Gilbert's little brother and I think you'd really like him, because I like him lots and lots and..."

"It's okay Feli," Nonno interjected, smiling again. "We'll speak to Gilbert about it. I'd like to meet them too."

"Really?" Feliciano exclaimed, bouncing on his tiptoes.

"Of course." They didn't speak much again after that, Feliciano bounding happily alongside his Grandfather as they headed towards the 'special place'. "Here we are," The man said, smiling down at the boy. "This is where your brother is."

"My brother?" Feliciano glanced around as they walked through the old, iron gates. He could see lots of stone things that were about the same height that he was. Some were covered in this weird green stuff and they all had writing on that Feliciano couldn't read. He'd never been very good at reading, Ludwig was so much better than him.

"Yes." Nonno nodded, leading Feliciano down a path between the stones. "You could say he was your big brother."

"Like Gilbert and Ludwig?"

"Yes, kind of." Nonno paused, frowning slightly. "How old is Gilbert?"

"He's twenty-one. Why?"

"Because that's how old your brother would be."

"Really? Wow, that's so cool!" Nonno smiled and Feliciano let go of his hand, skipping in front of him slightly.

"Feli, slow down!" Nonno called after him. He did so, swinging his arms and legs. He was in a good mood, they were going to meet his brother. He didn't even know he had a brother! "This way!" The boy skidded to a halt, running back to catch up with his Nonno, who had taken a different path. Back at the man's side, he glanced around, his previous joy evaporating somewhat.

"Why is he here?" Feliciano asked, holding tightly to Nonno's large hand.

"What do you mean, Feli?" Nonno stopped, crouching in front of him and putting his hands on his shoulders. Feliciano didn't like the serious look on his face. "Don't you know what this place is?" The boy shook his head. He'd never been here before, why would he? "It's called a graveyard." Nonno explained. Feliciano looked around him.

"A... gravy-yard?"

"No." Nonno chuckled. "A graveyard."

"Graveyard…" He repeated, testing the word on his tongue. He'd never heard it before.

Nonno nodded. "It's where people end up when they go to Heaven."

"Heaven?"

"Yes." He brushed the hair from Feliciano's face. "You remember what I told you about God and the Bible?" Feliciano nodded. "That's good. Well, your brother, he's up with God in heaven. So are all the other people whose names are on these stones." Feliciano stared at the stones, seeing the engraved words, but was unable to read them.

"What does this say, Nonno?" He asked, standing in front of the nearest one.

"_George Thompson. 1898-1929_." Feliciano darted further up the path, stopping by another stone.

"And this one?"

"_Melinda-Rose Hull. 1716-1721_." Nonno blinked. "She was still a little girl when she went to heaven." Feliciano paused, wondering how Nonno knew that, before darting to a larger one at the end of the path.

"This one's really big!" He exclaimed, standing in front of it. It reached well above his head. "What does this one say?"

"Let's see..." He muttered, squinting at the words. "_Alexander and Britta Ki_..." Nonno paused, before muttering something that Feliciano couldn't hear properly.

"What's wrong, Nonno?"

"Oh, it's nothing much, Feli." Nonno sighed, placing a hand on Feliciano's shoulder and gently ushering him away. "It just knew them before they went. Just an old man getting sentimental." Feliciano didn't know what that word meant, but he didn't feel it was right to ask. "Let's go find your brother, he's not far from here." Feliciano followed, taking his Nonno's hand again. After a short while, they stepped off of the path and snaked between the stones, stopping in front of one of them. "_Lovino Vargas_," Nonno read. "_1987-2003._"

"What's brother in Italian?" Feliciano asked.

"It's 'Fratello'."

"Fratello..." He muttered, staring at the stone. Nonno crouched down, pulling something out of a bag and placing it on the floor in front of the stone. It was some flowers, Feliciano realised, as he bent down. A photo was pinned onto the flowers: a teenage boy with dark hair and golden eyes. He stood up, feeling slightly odd. "Can we go home?" He asked, looking up at Nonno.

"Of course." Nonno smiled, and walked back towards the path, Feliciano taking his hand again. Suddenly the boy darted back, bending down and taking the photograph in his hands. He placed a quick kiss to it before putting it back and running over to Nonno, who ruffled his hair and wrapped and arm around his shoulders. He lowered his gaze to the ground, staring at the soil just in front of his feet.

_Arrivederci, Fratello..._

* * *

**There's a huge hint dropped in there somewhere, if you can find it, as to what I'm planning with Arthur.**_  
_

**I might change the description again... I don't like it anymore *sob***

**Oh, and that FrUKUS fic I mentioned? You're gonna have to wait for a bit. I want to finish this first, before starting anything else, really.**

**-Ayanhart**


	13. Chapter 11

**Hello again!**

**I've just started back at school again this week. This was supposed to be up at the weekend, but obviously that didn't happen, so here it is.**

**I've so many plot bunnies recently and I really _really_ want to write an EngIta fic, but all the plots I can come up with are flimsy at best. Then there's this Victorian era one that I want to write, but that's gonna require a lot of research and I've only really got the very basic ideas for a plot. And then there's that HetaOni one I've been trying to write for a year now... But I want to finish LBL and that FrUKUS one first. Then I'll think about moving on.**

**And maybe LBL won't go on for as long as I thought it would. I've actually started a sort of plan. I know what order things are gonna happen in now at least, and I have more of an idea about how they all link together. I also know when who is gonna kick it - so feel free to start leaving guesses as to who is gonna go. At the moment four/five are going to eventually die, though they haven't all been introduced yet.**

**SO!**

**This is Part 2. It's an eleven year time skip, so by now things have moved on a fair bit.**

**The first few chapters may be a bit slow, but it's just building everything up again so I can rip it all apart... again. There will be more people part of this and it will be longer than Part 1. I'm thinking it'll go a bit into the aftermath too, following the ****survivors, and the pasts of some of the characters will be revealed.**

**Anyways! Here's the first chapter of Part 2: Chapter 11.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or it's characters. Capiche?**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Feliciano stretched and rolled over, not yet ready to rouse himself from the light doze he remained in. His alarm beeped and he groaned, reaching out an arm and smacking the top of the digital clock. He peeked out from his pile of covers, glaring at the thing that dared to try and wake him up. The early-morning sunlight was forcing its way through from behind his thin curtains and he buried his head back into his pillow and trying to squeeze in a few more minutes.

Someone burst into his room and, in response to them tugging his lovely and warm quilt away, he just pretended to be asleep.

"Oh, thank god you're wearing pants," The gruff voice breathed. He huffed, but it was swallowed by the pillows. "But still, up you get!" One edge of his mattress was lifted and he fell out, onto the floor. He rolled onto his front and looked up to see the intruder laughing.

"That wasn't fair," He moaned, grabbing the closest pillow and chucking it at Gilbert, who caught it easily giving a wide shit-eating grin.

"You're not missing school today, so get dressed." He caught a bundle of clothes that were thrown at him, watching the thirty-something place the pillow and duvet back on the bed. "Clean uniform, put it on and I'll see you downstairs." With that, the albino left, shutting the door behind him.

The brunette groaned and forced himself to his feet, grabbing a towel before shuffling through to the bathroom. He tugged on the door and, finding it locked, leant forwards banging his forehead against the barrier between him and his morning shower.

"Really?" He said, loud enough to be heard through the wood. "You're hogging the bathroom _again_?"

"I take pride in my appearance," Came the deep voice from the other side.

"So do I!" He argued, banging his fist on the wood. "I just don't spend hours gelling every single little strand into place."

"I don't spend hours in here!"

"What time did you get in there then?" There was a long pause before the voice answered.

"...Just before seven."

"And the time now is?"

"...Twenty past eight..." He remained silent, soaking up his rare victory. "Fine, but that whole time wasn't spent on my hair."

"Yeah, sure..." He leant back against the door, only for his support to give in and for him to tumble back into the bathroom. From his position on the floor, he looked up at the person at whose feet he landed and saw a pair of bright-blue eyes looking down at him, blonde eyebrows raised. "Hiya, Luddy!" He grinned up at him.

"What have I told you about that nickname?"

He pouted. "Aww… But I think it's cute..."

"Yeah? Well I don't." Ludwig stood straight, readjusting the towel around his waist. "Excuse me, Feliciano." He rolled to the side as the blonde strode past, disappearing into the bedroom opposite his own. Gilbert had moved into what was previously the guestroom when the two boys had gotten too big to share a room – that, and Gilbert had been afraid that Feliciano's untidiness was going to send the obsessively tidy Ludwig into an early grave.

And, to be honest, the brunette often purposely left mess around the house just to watch the two brothers get all worked up, trying to clean it up. Compared to the younger sibling, it was even stranger to watch the normally boisterous and outgoing Gilbert fuss over the smallest mess. He generally had at least one following him around the kitchen when he cooked and, more often than not, he had to shoo them out for getting in his way or tidying something that he was just going to use again a minute-or-two later.

Feliciano smiled as he saw the aligned deodorants and toiletries, unable to resist rearranging them. He had a quick shower before stepping out and drying his hair, leaving the towel sitting on top of his head. He dumped his dirty pants in the wash-bin and tied a second towel around his waist. He looked at his reflection in the steamed-up mirror, tugging the towel off his head and throwing it in the same direction as his underwear.

He didn't look his age –at least, to him he didn't. With his rounded face and small figure, people generally got the impression he was a couple of years younger than sixteen. He hadn't even shown any signs of growing facial hair.

Despite that, he thought – hell, he _knew_ he was good looking. Hell, he'd been called a pretty-boy to his face multiple times. He had a dark complexion and tanned easily, full lips and had been told multiple times he was a good kisser. And okay, he'd admit it, he was a flirt. He'd had a few girlfriends, but none of them were really that serious and he'd never passed first base. He'd almost reached second with the last girl, but she'd started to lift his shirt and he'd quickly bottled it and almost started crying. Safe to say, that had scared her off.

Picking up a comb, he ran it through his still wet hair. At first glance, there was no difference between him and the average teenager. However, looking closer you could see the scars left behind from what he'd been through as a young child. A small, hidden mark was beneath his chin and a larger tear-shaped one, mostly covered by his hair, was on his right temple. It was part of the reason he insisted on keeping his hair long, to hide it as best he could. He'd been asked about it a few times, but he'd dodged the question or simply said he didn't want to talk about it. No one had asked twice.

The scars on his body were covered by his clothes, but that didn't make him any less self-conscious of them. Especially in situations where he had to get changed in public. He ran his hand across the largest one on his chest, the pale scar tissue sticking out like a sore thumb against his olive skin.

He stepped back from the mirror and darted back to his bedroom. Despite how close he was to Ludwig and Gilbert, he still got embarrassed when caught in any state of undress. He quickly pulled on his the white button-up shirt and hideous tartan trousers (why did the school decide they looked good?) before grabbing his phone and darting downstairs. He walked into the kitchen, glancing at the clock and seeing he'd somehow managed to waste a quarter of an hour in the bathroom. Gulping down the cereal and packing his bag, he was ready just in time to leave for their bus. He grabbed the jumper and tie off the stairs banister and darted after Ludwig who had refused to wait for him and left anyway.

"You're so mean!" He whined as he caught the blonde up a couple of minutes later, tucking the horribly-purple tie into the tan jumper and nearly tripping over his own feet. The purple blazer emblazoned with the school logo was stuffed in his bag and he'd only put it on if he had to.

"And you're so slow," The tall blonde replied, glancing down to see the brunette sticking his tongue out at him. "We were late leaving because of you and if we miss the bus..."

"I bet I can beat you to the bus-stop," Feliciano challenged, cutting him off and glancing up at the much taller teen. Ludwig just raised one pale eyebrow before the brunette darted away.

"H-hey!" Ludwig yelled after him. "That's cheating!" Feliciano only laughed, not slowing his pace. As they neared the bus-stop, they sped up, seeing the bus already in the bay. They reached the bus, fumbling out their bus passes and collapsing into an old seat as the bus began to pull away. The youngest years were screaming and shouting and doing whatever it was that Year 7s did at the front.

"You and your stupid games," Ludwig panted, his voice barely audible over the din.

"Hey!" Feliciano exclaimed, taking a deep breath, finally able to calm his heavy breathing. "It was my game that got us to the bus in time."

"That doesn't mean it wasn't stupid." Feliciano stuck his tongue out childishly at the blonde, causing him to laugh more.

He and Ludwig were about as alike as chalk and cheese, but that didn't mean that they couldn't be friends. Feliciano knew almost everything there was to know about Ludwig, and vice versa and, despite their opposing personalities and interests, they somehow managed to always to find something that could make it all interesting. They were in only two classes together at school: RE and Spanish. They were forced into wasting at least one of their optional subjects on a language and the ones they had to choose between were French, Spanish or German. Ludwig was already fairly fluent in German, (and he and Gilbert were also trying to teach Feliciano it anyway) so that was a no, and Francis would never get off their backs if they took French, so, in the end, they settled on Spanish, much to Antonio's delight.

"Feliciano, Ludwig. Good morning." They turned and looked at the people sitting in the seat behind them: Kiku and his youngest brother, Xiao. Yong Soo leant over Kiku's head, grinning widely and Mei was poking hers around that of her twin brother's. Kiku was in the same year that they were (Year 11), Yong Soo the year below and Xiao and Mei two years below him.

"Hey!" Feliciano exclaimed, shifting to a more comfortable position on the seat.

" 'Morning," Ludwig greeted simply, turning around in his seat slightly as the bus pulled to a halt at its second stop. Another crowd of students packed on, several familiar faces looming out of the mass of children stampeding through. Alfred and Matthew took the two seats in front of them, the twins offering their own hellos. Michelle suddenly appeared with a stunned looking Lili, grabbing Mei's wrist and dragging her upstairs, her explanation simply being 'girl talk'.

No one dared press any further.

"What do you have first?" Alfred asked, leaning back over the seat.

"We have PE," Ludwig answered for him. Oh, great...

"Seriously?" Alfred exclaimed, face lighting up. "That's so cool! Didn't Mr Barnes say we were doing basketball?"

"Yeah, he did." Matthew answered, giving a concerned glance at Feliciano. "Will you be okay?" He asked.

"I'll be fine." He replied, brushing their concern off with a light chuckle. He found it sweet, but he wasn't made of glass. The twins and Michelle were the only other kids in their school, besides Ludwig, who knew the truth about him and what had happened when he was younger.

When they arrived at the school, they went straight inside, escaping the rain that had started to fall at some point during the fifteen-minute journey. They stood in the busy hall and waited for the bell and the time when they'd split to go to their various form rooms. Alfred and Michelle were in the same tutor group and Ludwig was with Kiku. Feliciano was in the same from as Matthew and two other two boys in their year, Carlos and Heracles.

Their school had a policy in which no two siblings could be in the same form, which had immediately prevented Alfred and Matthew from being together, as well as Kiku and any of his siblings. Since they were legally brothers after Gilbert became his guardian, he and Ludwig couldn't be in the same form either.

Feliciano, suddenly remembering something, cut into the heated debate that Alfred was having with Matthew. "Al, have you done Misses Barlow's maths homework?" He asked, causing the blonde to freeze, stopping mid-sentence, his hand flying to his bag.

"Crap!" He exclaimed, rummaging through the superhero logo emblazoned bag and bringing out the unsolved sheet of algebraic problems. He sighed, rubbing his face. "That's my break gone."

"Oh, speaking of Maths..." Kiku, he turned to Ludwig, looking up at the tall blonde. He looked unusually flustered. "Have you done question seven of the cubic graphs sheet?"

"Uh, I think so." Ludwig paused, frowning. "Yeah, I have. It was confusing at first but once I got the hang of it, it was easy."

"Oh, that's good." The short Asian looked up at the blonde, almost pleadingly. "May I see how you did it in form?"

"Yeah, sure." Kiku visibly relaxed.

"Ah, thank you." Kiku bowed slightly, a custom Feliciano had noticed that he'd picked up since the year he and his family had spent in Japan. They all turned as a new face appeared in their group: Michelle.

"Sorry, guys," She began, smiling and grabbing onto Alfred's arm. "I need to steal him a bit early for form."

"Why'd we have to go so early, Chell?" The blonde asked, pouting moodily.

"Because we're in the science block and it's just stopped raining and I _really_ don't wanna get my hair wet." She smiled again, dragging Alfred away from the group. "See ya!" She called, turning slightly and waving. Alfred echoed her, giving a wave over his shoulder and not looking back. He must have said something to Michelle, because she glared up at the tall blonde and punched his arm. They could still hear Alfred's distinctive laugh well after the two were lost in the crowds moving through the hall doors.

"Hey..." They looked down to see a dark-haired girl clinging to a surprised Kiku's arm. It was Mei. And she was smirking. "I was wondering..." She was taking to Matthew, to the blonde's surprise. "Do you know if there's something going on between Alfred and Michelle?"

"N-no. Of course not," He stuttered.

"Oh. My. God." Mei squealed and Kiku flinched, as she was standing right beside him, still clinging to his arm. "They are totally going out! She is never going to hear the end of this!"

"They're not!" Matthew argued, looking horrified.

"Wait, who're going out?" Yong Soo. He suddenly appeared on the other side of Kiku, making the elder sibling jump.

"Alfred and Michelle," Mei supplied, causing his face to light up. Matthew looked like he was about to pass out and Feliciano was pretty sure Ludwig was feeling pretty uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Seriously?" Yong Soo asked, and Mei nodded. They laughed, before darting away. "See ya later, Kik!" Yong Soo called, he and Mei vanishing into the crowd.

The bell went and, after temporary goodbyes, they split up and left for their form rooms.

"Before you say anything, Feli," Matthew began, looking down at the shorter brunette. "Alfred and Michelle aren't going out." Feliciano pouted.

"Aww...But..."

"They're not, trust me." Matthew chuckled. "If they were I'd know about it. They're just – all three of us are just good friends." Feliciano nodded, believing Matthew.

"But if they were..." Feliciano pressed.

Matthew smirked. "If they were, then I would not be telling you."

"Eh? Why not?"

"Because you're such a blabbermouth," Matthew laughed. "The moment you saw someone you'd be like 'Oh, my _God_. Guess what I just heard'."

"You're mean," He whined.

"Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration, but still…"

"Still what?"

"I have a point."

"Whatever…"

Matthew smiled, shaking his head. They quickly hurried to Form and took their normal table in front of the one where Carlos and Heracles were already sat.

"Hey guys." Carlos casually slid his mobile back into his bag as their From Tutor entered the room just behind them. Mr Duff was another PE teacher (and one of the few teachers in the school who could tell Alfred and Matthew apart). He was relatively young, couldn't possibly be any older than thirty, and had the look and attitude that had all the girls wanting to be in his classes. He slumped into the seat at the front of the class and placed his laptop on the desk, calling quiet while he did the register.

Feliciano pulled a pad from his bag as Matthew pulled out his English book. He said he found the best place to do his homework recently was at school. Things had started getting heated between Arthur and Alfred and the smallest thing could send them into a shouting match. He and Ralph had quickly found that the best thing to do was to be at the other side of the house – or even better, out of the house when it happened, less they try to get you involved. Alfred had a nasty trick of doing that: Pulling whoever else was in the room into whatever it was that they were arguing about. The worst thing, Matthew had found, was trying to stop the fight. When Matthew had tried once they'd both turned on him. It was many hours later and after some very sappy apologies that Matthew had started talking to them again.

Feliciano looked around the room trying to find some inspiration to draw. In the end, he settled on the person next to him. Matthew actually had quite the cute concentration face, he noticed, as he wrote the essay that was due in at some point over the next few days. Feliciano pulled out his trusty mechanical pencil – his Art teacher, Miss Kirk, had told him off for using it once, but he found it easier than having to sharpen a pencil every few minutes – and began a sketch of the blonde.

He'd sketched almost everyone he was friends with at some point. He had more than enough of Gilbert and Ludwig, including one really cute brotherly one, and several of his friends and Francis, who was always more than willing to have his portrait done. He even had some of Liz, Antonio and Arthur, including one of Arthur and Francis slumped against each other when they'd fallen asleep on the sofa. He didn't think either of his unsuspecting models would ever get to see the drawing, for fear of it getting ripped up and him losing the cute picture.

They all suspected that there was _something_ between the two friends (more-than-friends?) though, no one could agree on exactly what. Whatever it was, Matthew and Alfred had said that Arthur had a habit of returning back from Francis' in the middle of the night and acting all flustered whenever he got caught.

"If that isn't evidence that there's something going on," Alfred had said. "Then I don't know what is."

They'd never asked Michelle whether she ever heard anything, but since she'd quickly shot them down when they put their ideas to her, they supposed not.

He stuffed the sketchpad into his bag as the bell went for first lesson. He said bye to Matthew and waved to Ludwig and Alfred as he passed their changing rooms on his way to the ones where his group got changed. Their whole year did PE together, but it was split into boys and girls and further into four ability groups. Ludwig, Alfred and Matthew were all in the top set: the athletically elite. They each did some sort of sport out of school.

Ludwig attended the gym a lot and he had a build that made many of the other students in the school jealous. He remembered an embarrassing situation when one girl had come up to him and asked to stroke his chest. He'd said no, of course, but that didn't prevent it from being any more embarrassing. Alfred, was the captain of the local football team and was the Year Eleven Sports Ambassador. Fancy title, but it just involved him organizing a load of fundraising things. Matthew was part of a local hockey team and, as such, remained reasonably fit.

Michelle was in the highest group for the girls. She was part of the leisure centre's Under 18s swim team and jogged most mornings before school. Francis had gotten her interested in sports which would 'help her retain her figure' when she was younger and, though she'd dropped badminton a few years ago, continued with many of the sports.

Kiku, who was nowhere near as athletically inclined, though he did do karate once a week, was in one of the middle groups. Not the lowest – that was for the downright unfit people – but a group which did much less contact sport and stuck to things like Tennis that required much less bulk and brawn than sports like Rugby. Feliciano had been put in with Kiku and that group. He didn't like doing too much sport, but he jogged some weekends so he didn't put on weight and he was quite good at track sports. The PE teachers had been pleasantly surprised when he'd shown his speed on the race track. He could even beat most of his friends in a race, something he was more than happy to brag about.

He grabbed his kit from the locker he shared with Kiku and walked over to one of the cubicles, locking the door and jamming the bin in front of the door so no one could open it. Some jerk had tried that once before, trying to drag him out, but the teacher had walked in before things could go too far. He'd slammed the door shut again, changing in the relative privacy the cubical. Safe to say, he hadn't been in a good mood for the rest of that day.

He quickly got changed, his back to the door just in case, and stepped out, walking out of the room and standing outside. Kiku joined him a minute or so later, Feliciano jumping as the Asian seemed to simply appear beside him. One of his 'ninja skills' as Alfred had dubbed them.

"Don't do that," Feliciano scolded, Kiku looking confused. "You give me the heebie-jeebies creeping up on me like that!"

"Ah, sorry," Was all Kiku said as their group was ushered off towards the school field.

* * *

**How was it? I changed the end completely from the original version, so I hope it was okay.**

**I hope everyone was in character. It always bugs me when I see Italy written as so ridiculously cheerful or as a complete crybaby. Or entirely innocent. I mean _come on_! This guy is not only at least 1000 years old and represents one of the romance nations so he's going to understand and probably toss around the odd innuendo. He's probably slept with more people than the most lascivious person you know. He also doesn't burst into tears every five minutes. This is also generally lumped onto Feliciano, the poor baby, and while he may not be as old or experienced as Veneziano, he is still a flirt and understands innuendos just like any other 20-year-old guy.**

**Okay, rant over...**

**Rugby is a sport similar to American Football, the only noticeable difference I can see is that they wear padding in American Football and don't in Rugby. Apparently, looking around the debates and general slagging off of one by supporters of the other, there are differences in the rules that I really can't be arsed to look into. I don't really care much for either. I don't really care much for sport in general tbh...**

**The school system I'm using is the one I'm familiar with i.e. the English one.**

**You get in at 9-ish in the morning. Form/Registration/Tutor Time is first, for about 15/20 minutes in the morning, which - depending on the school - can be mixed ages. ****Then lessons, which are about an hour each period. There are generally five during the day, with a half hour morning break (the American equivalent would be Recess) and a hour long lunch. The school day finishes somewhere between 3/4 depending on the school, what year you're in etc. (Primary schools often finish before Secondaries)**

**The timings vary from school to school, but you get the general idea.**

**Also, the ages are different. You start compulsory school at 5 in Reception. Then move up into Year 1, 2, 3... Reception, Year 1 & 2 make up Infant School. Years 3-6 make up Junior School. Infant and Junior can also be combined into a single Reception-Year 6 Primary School.**

**In Year 7 (11/12) you move up into Secondary School. You start your GCSEs in Year 10 (or in some subjects partway through Year 9) which are the first set of qualifications that you take at the end of Year 11 (15/16) which is what year the boys are in atm. It's set around about the 20th April, so their exams will be starting in a month. Good Luck!**

**After that, you can stay on for two years into Sixth Form, which is Year 12 and 13 (where I am!), or go to College. At both of which you do A-Levels. These are what get you into Uni, if you choose to go. I probably won't.**

**This ended up being a long A/N... Oh, well.**

**See you this weekend (maybe)**


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